The Long Summer
by Heather Long
Summary: Summer is here and it's going to be one hell of a Summer on the hellmouth for Xander, especially when Spike returns.
1. Default Chapter

The Long Summer  
  
  
  
The alarm shrieked its wake up call only to be slapped off by a hand from beneath the blankets. The groan that the voice emitted was exhaustive and long. Finally, shoving the blankets back the figure emerged and took the form of a man.  
  
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat there. He was exhausted. He'd slept all night, every night, for days. Nothing seemed to dent the exhaustion that was starting to show in the sallow color of his face and the dark shadows beneath his eyes. He rubbed at his eyes and forced himself to standup.  
  
His back creaked and protested as he stretched. There was a satisfying pop and ignoring the heap of clothing at the foot of the bed, he stepped past it towards the bathroom. The place really was starting to look like a dump. He stared blearily at the empty towel racks and realized that he'd never pulled the towels out of the dryer.  
  
  
  
"Dammit!" He sighed and adjusted his path to cross the apartment. He yanked open the dryer and an armful of clean towels spilled out, grabbing a couple; he left the rest where they fell. He shot a red-eyed glare at the clock, which told him, blandly, that he was going to be late if he didn't move it.  
  
The shower was uneventful, even if he tried to fall asleep twice. He switched from hot to cold and the shock seemed to help knock some of the exhaustion out of him. Shutting the water off, he toweled himself dry mechanically. There was still at least one pair of clean underwear and jeans in the drawer.  
  
It was Friday, so he could probably waste some time over the weekend getting the laundry done. Tossing the towel onto the foot of the bed, he opened a drawer and rummaged through it. He came out with a pair of mismatched socks, an old wrinkled t-shirt and the aforementioned underwear and jeans.  
  
Once he was dressed, he spent another ten minutes hunting up a belt, which he found, still threaded through the loops of another pair of jeans. He needed the belts more and more these days, as his waistline seemed to be shrinking dramatically. Tightening it up, he stopped long enough to grab a baseball cap for his hair and the keys before letting himself out of the apartment and locking it.  
  
He was five minutes late to the work site and the crew chief gave him the eye. He shrugged off that look, too. He picked up his worksheet and went to check on the guys for his crew. They were finishing up the interior structural on the new gym complex of Sunnydale High School.  
  
Xander squinted in the morning sunshine as he passed the workman erecting to school's new sign.  
  
"Where we at Bobby?" Xander asked, his voice hoarse.  
  
"Inspection." The wannabe body builder grunted with a jerk of his thumb towards a rat faced man with a pair of spectacles. The inspector was prowling around the work site, clucking and making notations on his clipboard.  
  
"The joy that is my Friday morning." Xander scowled.  
  
"Crew Chief toldja then?"  
  
"Told me what?" Xander looked away from the inspector.  
  
"He wants all the crews to put in overtime this weekend. The Mayor is planning some huge shindig to mark re-opening the school next month. Gotta finish all the interior structural so the decorators can get to work."  
  
Xander made a face and then ran his hand over it. "So much for my weekend plans."  
  
"Hot date?"  
  
"Laundry and beer."  
  
The older man laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Too bad Harris, I think a hot date would do you some good."  
  
"Thanks." Xander sneered. "I'll be sure to make a note of that for future reference."  
  
"Harris!"  
  
"Ah, the sweet sounds of an ass chewing." Xander tossed Bobby his clipboard and hefted a white construction hat on his head before strolling over to Jenson Saunders. "Yes, sir?"  
  
"Your crew's gonna start on the library tomorrow."  
  
"Library?" Xander blinked.  
  
"Yeah, excavation finished up." Saunders gestured for Xander to follow him and they circled around the heavy equipment to where the old library used to occupy its corner of Sunnydale High. "Foundation will go in today, your boys can start structure."  
  
Xander stared down into the pit that seemed to be staring up at him.  
  
"They're going to put it right back where it was?" Xander hadn't realized he'd asked the question out loud.  
  
"Yeah and we gotta get snapping. The rest of the building is in good shape, library took the worst brunt of the damage and we've had some trouble with the crews on excavating. But it's finished now."  
  
"What kind of trouble?" Xander blinked at Saunders.  
  
"Does it matter? I ain't paying you to do reports. I'm paying you to build structure. Get the rest of the gym finished today and get your boys here on site tomorrow. You got thirty days to build it." He left it there and abandoned Xander to go harass some other poor schmo.  
  
Xander stared back down into the hole with a thoughtful frown.  
  
"Harris!!"  
  
The voice jerked him out of his reverie and he looked back to see Bobby waving an all clear. Inspector must have finished up.  
  
"Gym today, library tomorrow. Welcome back to Sunnyhell High School, Harris." He muttered to himself. 


	2. The Long Summer 2

The Long Summer 2  
  
  
Xander called a halt to the work around 7. They were finished, for the most part, with their work on the gym. "Call it 8 tomorrow, guys?" He asked his tired crew and at their faint nods, he pointed to two of the guys leaning against a bobcat. "Tony, you and Phil finish up here in the morning. Clean up and then you can join us at the new site."   
  
"Sure thing." The men sounded tired. Xander waved them all away and sat down on a stack of steel girders to make some notes on his clipboard. He had to track their start and finish times as well as the levels of a project completed. Buried within his notes was a listing of materials used, requested or returned. He wanted to finish it all before he started a new workbook tomorrow. There was nothing quite like juggling two and accidentally charging a load of drywall and plaster to the wrong project.   
  
"Hey, Harris?"   
  
Xander looked up to see one of the crew still standing there, idly juggling his hard hat from one hand to the other. He fought the tiredness that was crawling up his muscles and searched for the name that went with the square-jawed face.  
  
"Bert?"  
  
"Yes, sir." Bert grinned. He liked it when Xander remembered his name. He was something of a large, beefy fellow who probably played high school football, but he was reticent about opening up. The quiet type who did his work and didn't speak up too often.  
  
"What's up?"  
  
"About tomorrow."  
  
Oh, here it comes. Xander sighed. Someone wanted out of the hefty overtime earned by working weekends and giving up anything remotely resembling a pathetic life experience.   
  
"Yeah?" He replied cautiously while carelessly scrawling his name at the bottom of the completed sheet with a notation about Tony and Phil's clean up for the following day.  
  
"Well - it's like this. I get my kid tomorrow. I only get him two Saturdays out of the month. I sorta promised to take him to a ballgame. I know it's overtime and all, but you think I could cut out around noon?" Bert fumbled with his hat some more. "I just don't want to disappoint my boy."  
  
He blinked for a moment. The gentle giant was a father? Xander pushed a hand up under the white construction hat and scratched the side of his ear. He was reminded of all the long weekends his dad worked and if he ever complained about wanting to do something, the bellowed lectures about responsibility and money not growing on trees. Xander thought that in Sunnydale, there probably was a tree that flowered money, just not at the Harris'.   
  
"I didn't know you had any kids." Xander blurted out. "How old is he?"  
  
"He's five." Bert's beefy face spread into a grin and he fished out this old, cracked leather wallet that looked more like something you found discarded than used for carrying money and photos. He whipped out an obligatory photo of a boy with the same beefy jaw line, only softened by pudgy cheeks and a cherubic smile.  
  
"Cute kid." Xander manufactured without really believing it. He was trying to figure the math in his head. Bert was about twenty six, he thought, that would have made him Xander's age when the kid was born. He repressed a shudder.  
  
"Anyway, like I said, I know you need the help. I'll come in an hour early, help with the site prep. But would you mind if I let at noon?"   
  
He was about to say no, but thought better of it. The guy seemed genuinely interested in his kid and he was offering to help with site prep and not asking for the whole day. "Yeah," Xander nodded. "Go ahead. Enjoy the game."  
  
"Thank you." Bert was suddenly all smiles and he seized Xander's hand for a quick hard shake. "I appreciate it. You ever need me for other overtime; I'm your man. I'll be out here bright and early tomorrow, Sunday too. Just hate the idea of breaking a promise to my kid."   
  
Xander mumbled something in agreement and felt profound relief when the man headed off to whatever life it was that waited for him in the intervening days he didn't spend with his kid. He ignored the faintly envious feeling, because he was pretty sure his own father would have opted for the overtime rather than an afternoon in the ballpark. But that was the Harris family; they weren't big on commitment and keeping promises.  
  
Flipping the notepad closed, he savagely began gathering up his toolkit and work jacket. The site was shutting down all over the place; alternating crews were packing it in for a Friday night spent playing pool at the Bronze or other family like pursuits. Xander ignored the burning sensation in his muscles as he left the worksite and approached the beaten up mini pickup truck.  
  
It wasn't much, but after Willow's friendly neighborhood totaling of his last vehicle and Xander's inability to explain to the insurance company how he wrecked his car in the middle of nowhere, it was all he could afford. They'd paid out a totaling fee and then dropped him like a hot potato. He was now using Jim Bo Bob's All Purpose Not Worth the Paper It's Printed On car insurance with a premium that would have made Cordelia's high school wardrobe allowance weep.  
  
He ignored the dents, dings and peeling paint to drop the toolbox into the bed of the truck in the back. The clipboard was easily tossed in the window to rest on the DMP packaging that littered that side of the car. He found his keys after a cursory check of the pockets and let himself in side.   
  
Every once in a while, he wished the truck would get stolen and make good on the promise of one more screw up in his daily existence, but there was no such luck. Apparently no one wanted the beaten up vehicle except him. He coaxed the engine into sputtering life and slid it into gear. He drove out of the makeshift gravel lot without a backwards glance.   
  
A half tossed glance at his watch told him sundown was still a good two hours away. The beauty of summer, long days meant easier commutes. Negotiating the trickle of traffic joining their way along Sunnydale's main strip, Xander took the alley shortcut to pull up behind the Magic Box.  
  
He left the truck, locked for kicks this time, there and carried his toolbox in through the back door. He still had an old set of keys and remembered to lock the door behind him. The shop was dark, but he found the main light switch without any trouble. The sunlight was still filtering through the wooden boards that now made up the front glass.   
  
Xander set his toolbox down and pulled out a pair of beaten up work gloves. He'd cleared most of the concrete and debris over the last two weeks, now it was time to check all the wooden supports. He fastened his tool belt and picked up the sledgehammer. The weaker supports would need a bracer, then replacement.   
  
Smothering a yawn and ignoring the warning pains in his stomach, he went to work. He was determined to finish the work on the shop himself. Anya's insurance company pulled out of covering the vandalism because it was clearly considered staged and he could remember Anya's fuming as she listed it off in detail. How could he think that she would deliberately destroy her own shop? It was an outrage, a scandal.   
  
He shook his head at the memory and started with the rubble that was left of the back wall. It should only take three or four nights to finish the support, and then he could frame the door and start replacing the brick.   
  
Stridently ignoring the complaints of his body, he got to work. 


	3. The Long Summer 3

The Long Summer 3/?  
  
  
  
The smell of freshly sawed wood perfumed the air within the shop. It seemed far more expansive than normal with most of the recoverable stock packed away in the security of the basement. Xander lifted his work goggles and wiped the sweat beading his forehead with the back of his hand. It was after nine, but he had four new strong supports to place and then he'd leave it until Saturday.  
  
Rolling his head around, he tried to loosen up the knotted muscles and there was a snapping sound around him that sent him spinning. The 2x4 in his hand swung as he did and caught the vampire square in the upper shoulder The fanged face hissed in pain and fury, lunging immediately back to his feet. Xander's hand shot behind him to grab the nail gun from its holster.  
  
Just as the vampire rammed him into his newly finished set of posts, he pointed the gun right into the thing's neck and started firing rapidly. It shrieked in agony and fell backwards. Dropping the nail gun, Xander seized up a splinter of wood from his cutting and dove forward. He slammed the makeshift stake into the shrieking vampire's heart. An explosion of dust and a silence so profound rewarded him; his own ragged breathing seemed loud.  
  
He'd locked the back door, dammit. How the hell had it gotten in? Retrieving the nail gun, Xander rubbed his arm across his face, smearing the sawdust and sweat and blinked around the dimly lit area outside of his work lamp. The door to the basement stood ajar and Xander sighed. Checking the load on the nail gun, he grabbed another stake and made his way over to the door.  
  
Pulling it the rest of the way open, he descended the stairs cautiously. Boxes were stacked in every available space, but there were several which had been upended and their contents spilled across the floor like so many carelessly broken toys. Xander scowled and muttered another oath. He elbowed the overhead lamp on and stared at the boarded up entrance to the Sunnydale underground.  
  
It wasn't boarded up anymore.  
  
"Damn scum." Xander swore and retreated back up the stairs to fetch his tools, some holy water and a pair of crucifixes that he'd been carefully building into the framework of most of the buildings. He wasn't particularly religious, but it might give some of Sunnydale's less than desirables a second thought.  
  
Heading back into the basement, he went to work repairing the damage to his makeshift seal and dabbed holy water around the nails as well as the crucifixes, which he hung with prominences.  
  
An hour later, he resumed his work in the main shop and found himself trimming another 2x4 to replace the damaged one from the fight. It was nearly eleven before he managed to finish up for the night, equal parts disgusted and exhausted. He packed up his tools and carried them all out to secure in the truck. The alley way was quiet, but he kept a stake in one hand for each trip. He locked up the shop properly before climbing into the rickety truck and gunning its tired engine for home.  
  
The apartment was a welcome respite despite the haphazard appearance of the laundry and old garbage. He gathered up an armful of clothes and dumped them in the washer. Letting it do its thing, he grabbed up the forgotten towels from the morning and carried them into the bathroom.  
  
Ten minutes later, he emerged, smelling vaguely more human and feeling more like it. He padded barefoot over to the refrigerator. There were only two bottles of beer and an old container of Chinese that smelled frightful. He settled for some dried out bread and a bottle of beer.  
  
Settling wearily into an armchair, he looked at the mail he'd deposited on his way in the door. A few fliers, advertisements for fixing his credit, four separate offers for life insurance, a bill that threatened to cut off service if he didn't write them a check. He stared at it bemusedly and tried to remember why he hadn't paid for it and lacking any great reason, tossed it to the coffee table to be paid later. It joined several compatriots in a pile that seemed to have grown taller since the spring.  
  
But then Anya seemed to adore paying the bills and Xander lacked her rhythm or enthusiasm. The last letter bore a foreign postmark and he stared at it for a long time. The handwriting was as familiar as his own even if the return address sounded straight out of some fairy tale.  
  
Tipping the bottle upwards, he took a long pull on the beer and continued to stare at the envelope. He contemplated opening it and then thought better of it. He slowly leaned forward and set it on the table where he could look at it and still drink his beer.  
  
There was a message light blinking on the answering machine and his gaze rested on it for a long time as well before he reached over and hit delete. He remained in the chair until the buzzer sounded on the washing machine. The beer was finished along with the stale bread. Stumbling with tired, he made his way over to haul out the washed clothes and shoved them into the dryer.  
  
He opened the dryer sheet box and found it empty.  
  
Sighing, he slammed the dryer door shut and cranked it up to seventy minutes on high before making his way to the bed. He didn't bother to even pull the blankets back as he collapsed on top of it.  
  
Morning was right around the corner anyway. 


	4. The Long Summer 4

The Long Summer 4/?  
  
  
  
There were a dozen police cars littering the area around the worksite when Xander arrived at seven. He picked up his Styrofoam coffee cup and slid out from behind the driver's wheel. A uniformed officer was already approaching him.  
  
"Stay with your car, please sir." The officer informed him. "Site's closed for an investigation."  
  
"Investigation?" Xander asked dumbly, his mind still numb with sleep. He sipped the scalding ink that passed for coffee and stared at the officer with bloodshot eyes.  
  
"Crew chief is on his way, just hang out here. Hopefully we'll clear out soon." The officer tipped his hat and wandered back to where there was yellow tape informing everyone that it was a police line, don't cross.  
  
Xander sighed and leaned back against the hood of the car. A voice behind made him yelp and dump part of the coffee down his shirt. "Don't do that!" He sputtered as he pulled the scalding cotton away from his skin and gave Dawn a half-glare as she circled around to join him.  
  
"Sorry." She said sheepishly. "I was just waiting across the street when I saw you pull up."  
  
"Why were you waiting across the street?" Xander asked.  
  
"Because Buffy told me too." Dawn shrugged. "We were patrolling and there was some grand party going on here last night. Took her a long time to clean it out and then the cops flooded the place an hour ago."  
  
"Where's Buff now?" Xander started searching the site, but all he could see were uniformed officers moving around and eventually the familiar face of his crew chief appeared among them.  
  
"She went down in the excavation site." Dawn was speaking in a lower tone of voice. "A gesundheit demon or something like that. It tried to slither down there and she followed it. She wouldn't let me go though, said I wasn't ready to fight one of those yet."  
  
"Oh well, who is?" His tone was dry and weary. "She'll be fine, probably won't come back up this way. Or at least, I can't imagine she will with all this going on. Why don't you go ahead and go home?"  
  
"Cause she told me to wait." Dawn said matter-of-factly. "And while I'm here, how come you haven't called us back?"  
  
"Huh?" A dull headache was starting to thump behind his eyes and all he really wanted to do was get started on the site for the day. He could see Bert pulling up in his beaten up Volkswagen. He parked a few feet from Xander's truck and was eyeing the site with a frown. Xander waved him to stay in his car and took another drink of his coffee. His shirt was a wash, but h e just ignored the sticky feeling of it clingy to his chest.  
  
"You know. Phone. Pick up. Dial?" Dawn prodded him with a finger. "I left three messages this week, but you haven't called back."  
  
"Been busy and I haven't picked up my messages." Xander lied. "Sorry."  
  
"Well, wanted to ask you over for dinner this weekend. Buffy is going to try cooking again." Dawn snorted with laughter. "She's been practicing. Actually made something that didn't burn the other day, but it was still a little raw in the middle."  
  
"Can't, Dawnie. Gotta work."  
  
"All weekend?"  
  
His response was cut off when the crew chief bellowed his name. He waved a hand at Dawn and pushed away from the truck. Ducking under the police tape, he headed over to his boss.  
  
"Get your crew lined up Harris, soon as the cops clear out, you boys can get to work." His gruff voice lacked its usual sourness.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"Couple of kids decided to romp in the site last night. Made a hell of a mess." His expression soured now. "One of them got impaled for his trouble, not that it'll be any comfort to his parents."  
  
They were close to the site now and only years of experiences with corpses kept Xander's coffee in his stomach. A coroner's crew was removing a teenager from a six-foot piece of rebar. It had punctured him in the chest, not that there was much of his chest left.  
  
He looked like he'd been eaten.  
  
A flash replayed through his mind of looking through shattered stairs to Cordelia lying below, rebar punched through her side. He sighed at the mental imagery and shook it off. He took a long swallow of coffee and tried to pay attention to whatever the crew chief was muttering.  
  
"I'll get a power wash crew in. You focus on cleaning up, getting the site prep done. This will put us a few days behind, but I got confidence in you Harris." He slapped Xander's shoulder and moved off. Xander glanced away from the site and saw Dawn joined by Buffy across the street. Buffy mimed a phone with her thumb and pinky, and then nudged Dawn into walking away.  
  
Xander sighed.  
  
Just another day on the hellmouth. 


	5. The Long Summer 5

The Long Summer 5  
  
It was nearing sundown before the crew was able to get the clean up done, what the vandals hadn't trashed, the crime units seemed to have. It was an ugly nightmare as far as scheduling, overtime and reports went. Xander spent several minutes sitting on the hood of the pick up and filling in the details, including four new requisitions for replacement equipment. Their power tools apparently all went on the blink at once.  
  
Even through the waves of tiredness, he could do the math. It might not be exactly accurate, but it was definitely adding up to a tidy sum. Guess he was going to be no bonus man this month. His crew was chunking the budget in the toilet, never mind that it wasn't his crew's fault.  
  
"We're all finished boss. Site's secure." Kevin Williamson's voice penetrated the murky haze surrounding Xander's attention span and he focused on the black man standing there, looking expectant.  
  
"Secure?" He blinked once. The hellmouth was secure?  
  
"Yeah, tools locked up, got everything hauled back to the equipment trailer. Didn't want the kids putzing around in it again." Kevin grinned. "It's quitting time, boss. Why don't you go have a beer and kiss the girl? We'll be here tomorrow."  
  
"No." Xander shook his head. "You guys take tomorrow. It's gonna be a hell of a long week next week. We can't do much more until some of the equipment is replaced and the foundation inspector rechecks us."  
  
Kevin nodded once; he didn't seem likely to argue about the day off. Not after today, anyway. "Hey, Xander. Me and some of the guys are going to the Bronze. You want to join us?"  
  
"No, thanks Kevin. I got some work to do. I'll just grab a beer when I get home. You have a good day off, be in bright and early Monday."  
  
"You the man!" Kevin winked and gave him a thumbs up. "I'll tell the boys."  
  
"You do that." He'd already dismissed the man from his thoughts as they vanished, leaving Xander to sit on the hood of the pick up truck. He glanced back down at the req orders and then flipped the metal cover shut.  
  
He slid off the hood of the car and tossed the clipboard into the open window of the truck. Xander walked across the short divide that separated the parking area from the excavated site and damaged foundation. The damage was superficial, he thought, but it was better to request another inspection.  
  
Not a big point in building something that was likely to fall down because of a shoddy foundation, he argued. Not that the foundation of the foundation was an especially bright move. He made his way down the embankment and studied the layout, mentally picturing where scaffolding and girders would be placed to frame up the infrastructure.  
  
In his mind, he could visualize not only the labor, but also how much equipment and material he would need. This job couldn't be finished in a month, he decided. Not if they wanted it done right.  
  
Of course if the students blew it all up again in a few years, what would be the point?  
  
Xander shrugged off the thought and began to walk the perimeter. The power cleaning crew had done a decent job. The area around the base and the rebar was clean, what stain might be left wasn't visible in the pools of work lamps which were aimed on the area. Stupid kids and all their games –  
  
The thought cut off just as it was formed. Kids didn't do this, why was he thinking about kids? The police report was going to stipulate kids. The insurance vouchers were all going to claim student vandals. Heck, even that corpse they pulled up was going to be buried and marked down as died while committing vandalism.  
  
He rubbed his hand over his cheek, feeling the hard grit of stubble and then shook his head. He should pack it in here; he had work to do at the Magic Shop. He'd get all the requisitions filed tomorrow and then spend the day laying the new wall. That would give the mortar a chance to settle for a day or two before he started framing up new shelves.  
  
Xander turned to head back to his truck and still half-lost in thought; he collided with a larger figure and felt ice-cold seep through him as it flung him backwards. Red, bloodshot eyes fought for purchase on whatever it was that was suddenly looming over him, but all he could see was blackness.  
  
Where the hell were the lights?  
  
His hand fumbled out, looking for some loose piece of rock that he could use as a weapon when he found himself seized and then flung. His ribs cried out in complaint as they impacted against the hard earth and then the icy coldness was washing over him again.  
  
Well, he was going to die at Sunnydale High, he thought rather gloomily, only took seven years, but the high school is finally going to be the death of me. He lay there and waited, but death didn't come. After a few minutes, he sat up and looked around.  
  
The site was quiet. The air was punctuated by the sounds of distant traffic and the occasional night bird that braved the Sunnydale darkness to sing its song of woe.  
  
"Okay, not dead. I think." Xander said slowly, one hand searching himself for solidity.  
  
"Talking to yourself now, Harris?" A very unwelcome and familiar voice drawled as a figure resolved itself out of the darkness, strolling towards him.  
  
"Oh, I should have known it was you. Trying to play tricks with my mind now?" Xander demanded, scrambling to his feet. Anger had a way of clearing the fuzzes from a groggy mind, better than a cold slap of water.  
  
"What mind?" Spike asked, his brow quirked in that irritating sardonic manner. He was smoking a cigarette, radiating his typical undead I'm cooler than you ambience and Xander was just not in the mood.  
  
"I thought you ditched town, finally got a clue after you tried to rape Buffy and she kicked your ass." The vitriol poured out, like puss from a festering wound. "Back for a little more sniffing and a lot more beating?"  
  
He took a step threateningly towards him and suddenly found himself dangling in the air, Spike's hand firmly lodged around his throat. "Harris, you're still alive cause Buffy cares about you. You're still alive because there was a chip in my head for a real long time. And you're still alive right now because I can see a man in a lot of pain that's just looking for a way to end. You might be in the mood tonight, I'm not. So let's get one thing straight, mate. You shut your gob and you point that little finger at yourself. The person you're pissed at is you. Clear?"  
  
Spike had him by the throat. He was cutting off Xander's air supply and he was doing it without a wince. Spike seemed to be waiting for something and when Xander made some faintly gurgling sound, he shrugged and dropped him.  
  
"Sorry, forget my strength some times." He didn't sound remotely sorry.  
  
Xander lied there on the ground, rubbing at his sore throat and eyeing Spike warily. There was a stake, just a few feet away in the truck, if he could get to it.  
  
"So." Spike squatted down. "Want to go get a beer and talk about it?"  
  
"Talk about what?" Xander asked hoarsely, surprised and not the least bit trusting.  
  
"Life. The universe. Having a death wish."  
  
"I don't have a death wish."  
  
"Oh." Spike nodded and stood. "Right then, I'll leave you here to contemplate the bodily sacrifice you were offering up to the hellmouth. Night."  
  
He started to stroll off into the darkness and Xander fumbled to his feet. "Wait –" He croaked, his neck hurt, his chest hurt, his whole body hurt. Damn vampire.  
  
"Yes?" Spike turned and lifted an expectant eyebrow.  
  
"Why are you back?" That wasn't what Xander meant to ask, but it was the first question that came to mind and escaped before he could stop it.  
  
"S'my home." The blonde vampire shrugged.  
  
"Oh." It was the pithiest remark that came to mind and Xander stood there, struggling with the idea of going to get the stake or just collapsing. He was still undecided when Spike took a step back towards him.  
  
"You all right?"  
  
"I'm fine." Xander replied categorically before passing out. 


	6. The Long Summer 6

The Long Summer 6  
  
  
  
Awareness returned in vague trickles, sound first, smell second and sight if he could unglue his eyes from the closed position. He was flat on his back, he could tell that much. Whatever part of his body wasn't aching from some kind of bruise seemed grateful for the prone position.  
  
He dimly remembered ordering a halt to the work on Sunday and so the part of his brain that might have worried about the lack of alarm clock failed to rouse him from this stupor.  
  
Sounds began to penetrate the fog and slowly he put a name to each sound as it was made. Dishes were rattling as though being loaded into a dishwasher. There was a cupboard being opened, then another, then another. The refrigerator was next and a sound that might have been disgust.  
  
It was the last one that caught his attention and he began the onerous process of opening his eyes. Onerous indeed because they were refusing to cooperate; the first lid to peel back slammed shut at the light, which stung the eye underneath.  
  
Groggy and irritated at his own weakness, he fumbled into a sitting position and rubbed his eyes fiercely. More sounds interrupted his concentration and as he convinced his eyes to open enough to squint, he looked around at what was his apartment.  
  
His now clean apartment.  
  
"Oh, this is a nightmare." He moaned a little as a wavery, blonde haired figure swam into view carrying of all absurd things a basket of laundry.  
  
"No, but you smell like one. Might want to shower. Food be here in a bit."  
  
Xander rubbed his eyes harder and resisted the urge to gouge them out as he struggled to get a better grip on what was going on. He looked down at himself first. He was whole and in one piece.  
  
He was still dressed.  
  
So far, so good.  
  
The apartment was next. He recognized the furniture. Okay, check that. The only thing out of place was the blonde vampire who seemed to be almost humming as he put away clothes.  
  
Xander's clothes.  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
"Playing a hand of gin rummy." Spike tossed over his shoulder carelessly. "What does it look like I'm doing?"  
  
"Putting away my clothes?" Xander ventured the guess. It sounded as absurd spoken as it did rattling around in his head.  
  
"Good. Figured it in one." Spike nodded approvingly. He turned around and swept up the now empty white laundry basket and made his way across the room. There was a pile of whites near the door and he was adding them to the basket.  
  
"Hey!" Xander shot to his feet, regretting the action the moment it was taken. "That's my underwear!"  
  
Spike sniffed once and gave him a disdainful look. "Well it certainly isn't mine. I'd never let mine get into this state."  
  
"Get your hands off my clothes."  
  
"Ease up there mate and sit down before you fall down. I don't fancy having to lug you around again."  
  
"Again?" Xander sat abruptly, even though his initial urge had been to remain on his feet.  
  
"Yeah, how else do you think you got back here? Tinkerbell?" Spike chuckled and vanished off, Xander's clothes still in his possession.  
  
Swiping his hand over his face, Xander pushed his way to his feet again and walked out into the front room. It was like entering a stranger's apartment. The furniture was his, but everything was straight. The piles of debris clothing, garbage and various boxes were completely straightened.  
  
"Mail's on the table." Spike pointed as he added some detergent to the wash. "I sorted it. Bills in one stack, personal mail in another; I figured you weren't big on the sales so I gave those to Clem when he came by."  
  
"Why did Clem come by?" Xander asked dazedly.  
  
"Pick up a list and some money. Still a bit bright for me to be getting out and about; he told me he would pick up some stuff. You know your refrigerator was empty?"  
  
"Spike – how the hell did you get in my apartment?" Xander's head was spinning; information overload combined with sheer exhaustion was making him feel ill.  
  
"Manager. Nice bloke. Explained the situation, you passing out and all, he let me in so I could get your things, then I went down and brought you up."  
  
"The manager doesn't live here though."  
  
"No, but he runs the building and has keys. Technically he can invite. Small technicality really, but it works."  
  
"But he doesn't even live in the building. Just keeps an apartment, but he doesn't use it."  
  
"We're not going to get passed this anytime soon, are we?" Spike tapped out a cigarette while he was leaning against the refrigerator and lit it.  
  
"It's just – I thought you had to live somewhere to invite someone in."  
  
"Misnomer. You have to be living." Spike grinned. "Good thing to know, eh? Your manager is definitely alive."  
  
"Yeah, great."  
  
They stood in silence, Spike smoking and Xander still trying to come to grips with everything. He looked towards all the windows with their shades tightly drawn. A bit of sunlight peeked around the edges. He could go flip them open and solve a lot of problems all at once.  
  
But for some reason his feet just stayed where they were.  
  
The doorbell rang and Spike moved towards it with an exclamation. He pulled the door open to let in the wrinkly dog-faced demon better known as Clem and Xander watched as the two man-handled grocery bags from the entryway to the kitchen.  
  
"Good man, Clem. Good man. Did you get the --? " Spike looked expectant.  
  
"It's in the cooler. I'll run down and grab it in a minute. They were out of Wheetabix though." Clem apologized. "Hey Xander!" He waved at Xander and Xander started to lift his hand to wave back, but paused in mid-motion to stare at it.  
  
"Want something to eat?" Spike asked. "I can run up a fair omelet I imagine. Watched the Chef on the telly do it enough times."  
  
"I'm not hungry." Xander answered automatically before his stomach growled loud enough to be heard across the room in protest.  
  
"Right." Spike nodded agreeably, pausing to take the cooler from Clem as he returned with it. "Thanks mate. I give you enough money?"  
  
"We're good, Spike. You gonna come play poker tonight?" Clem grinned and Xander found himself staring at the two of them. Maybe he was in the Twilight Zone.  
  
That would explain so much.  
  
"Nah, think I'll hang out here. Keep an eye on." Spike jerked his head towards Xander.  
  
"Okay. Well, give me a call, there's an all night Baywatch coming up soon and a marathon of As Time Goes By on BBC America." Clem grinned. "I like Judith."  
  
Spike chuckled. "I'll give it a whirl."  
  
  
  
"Hey, Harris?"  
  
Xander blinked and realized that he'd nodded off leaning against the doorframe. He glanced around and saw Spike setting a plate on the table. "Omelet's ready," Spike informed him. "Sit, eat. Then shower and get some sleep."  
  
"Why are you still here?"  
  
"Brushing up on my Mary Poppins, now have at." Spike pointed his finger imperiously and Xander wandered over to the table. The omelet smelled wonderful and his stomach made a few voracious noises in approval.  
  
"You poison it?"  
  
"Not tonight. I'll save that for when you start annoying me again. Now eat." Spike was somewhere near the washer and dryer again.  
  
Xander ate almost mechanically, but with growing vigor. The omelet was actually very good. Spike wandered past again with another load of folded clothes and Xander stared after him.  
  
Definitely the Twilight Zone. 


	7. The Long Summer 7

The Long Summer 7  
  
  
  
If he thought the shower was going to help, he was sorely mistaken. He found Spike settled comfortably into an armchair when he returned to the living room. The shave and the shower did, however, relieve him of the awful grogginess that was plaguing him. He could deal with the vampire now. Just go out and tell him to get out. He was a day behind on all his work, didn't have time to deal with this.  
  
Spike looked at him expectantly when he walked into the living room. "I put some coffee on." He gestured towards the kitchen and now that he mentioned it, Xander could smell the fresh roasted beans percolating. It was like nirvana and his mouth watered at the thought.  
  
"Starbuck's?" He asked, curious despite himself.  
  
"Yep. Two pounds of light note, ground for a flat bottom and some of that Columbian Bold special feature they were running. It tastes really good with a fresh pack of - well, it tastes good."  
  
Xander held out his hand. "Thank you. I really don't want to know what tastes good with blood. It will kill the mood."  
  
"What mood is that mate?"  
  
"The mood where I haven't staked you yet."  
  
"Oh, let's not get back on that, shall we?"  
  
"We never left that, Spike." Xander said his name through gritted teeth. It was like sandpaper on an already irritated wound. He walked into the kitchen and found that Spike's Mary Poppins seemed to have extended to more than just stocking the refrigerator.   
  
It was cleaner than Xander could remember in months and there was a nice large coffee mug on the counter with a picture of Scooby on it. He picked up the mug and stared at it. Willow gave it to him for his birthday three years before. The official mug for someone in the Scooby gang.   
  
It actually used to mean something.  
  
He shoved that train of thought away and poured the coffee into the mug and added some sugar mechanically. When he returned to the living room, he found Spike where he left him. There seemed to be no avoiding the inevitable now as the two men stared at each other.  
"So, let's hear it. I'm not dead, so you didn't come to kill me." Xander opened with what he felt was a reasonable tone of voice, despite how unreasonable he felt.  
  
"No, you're not dead and no I didn't come to kill you." Spike agreed.   
  
"Then why are you here?" Xander took a sip of the coffee and winced as it scalded his tongue. Despite the heat of it, the taste was excellent matching the aroma in full body and flavor. He almost sighed. He'd been drinking convenience store coffee for so long, he'd almost forgotten how good real coffee could be.  
  
Before Spike could answer, the phone jingled. It sounded loud and jarring in the silence that blanketed the room. On the third ring, Spike lifted his brows. "Going to answer that?"  
  
"Nope." Xander replied and on cue, his answering machine answered it with a false sense of cheerfulness informing the caller that he wasn't home and to leave a message at the beep.  
  
"Xander - it's Buffy. Look, you can call me back or I'm going to come and find you, but we need to talk. There's a lot going on around that construction site and I can't believe you're working on rebuilding right over the hellmouth." She paused and a voice mumbled something in the background. "Oh and Dawn says you still need to come over for dinner. It's five now, you could make it by seven if you get this. Well - see ya."   
  
The phone clicked and Xander's eyes rolled slightly before he looked back at Spike. The vampire was watching him with a keen interest and there was almost an air of speculation to him.   
  
Xander didn't care for either sensation.  
  
"Avoiding the Slayer, are you?"   
  
"None of your business. Why are you here?"  
  
"Well, that's the kick of it. I was on the way back to my Crypt when I saw you lying there all nice and tasty like a forgotten snack. After you passed out, figured it wouldn't be too bright to leave you there so I drove you and your junk heap home."  
  
It sounded plausible, but in the scheme of things it just didn't make sense.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Why what?"  
  
"Why not leave me there?"  
  
"Because you might have died, would have made the Slayer sad." Spike shook his head. "Couldn't have that."  
  
"Oh, so this is more get into Buffy's pants nonsense."  
  
"Don't need you for that, mate." His response was quiet, assured and with utter conviction. "So you can quite holding yourself up worthy of something along those lines."  
  
Hate surged through him, fast and violent. He flung the coffee mug at the smug vampire and lunged. The fight was shorter than he expected and within seconds, he was gasping for breath as Spike held him in a headlock.  
  
"You done?" Spike asked casually. "Cause you just made a hell of a mess on my clean carpet."  
  
"I hate you." Xander hissed through his teeth. "You're nothing but an undead parasite who's trying to steal my friends and my life and everything that ever made it a decent place to live despite being Sunnydale."  
  
The grip around his neck loosened slightly and Xander took advantage of it, trying to elbow, bite and kick his way free. Three seconds later he was slammed into the floor, headlock tightened again.  
  
"Look, you silly git. I don't want your life. I don't want your friends and I certainly don't want to keep doing this. So - you let me know when you're done and I'll let you go."   
  
"Just kill me and get it over with." Xander wheezed.  
  
"Problem with that one, mate. I don't want to kill you."   
  
To his horror, the note of absolute sincerity in Spike's voice brought tears to his eyes and he squeezed them shut, trying to keep them from escaping. But his voice was still a ragged sob. "So, I'm not even good enough to die for a light snack."  
  
"Pathetic." Spike dropped him all at once and rose to look down at where Xander sprawled. "You really are pathetic. Do you want to die that badly?"  
  
"What's it matter to you? I thought you were a killer?" Xander groused, still fighting the tears that were trying to get out.  
  
Spike shook his head and his face transformed into the hideous mask with yellow eyes. "Is THIS what you're looking for, Harris?" He demanded in a low hissing tone. "To be fodder? To die in some hole, forgotten and sad because your life is a shambles?"  
  
"Go ahead then. Do it. Since you must have figured out a way to get rid of the chip. Go ahead - kill me."  
  
Spike knelt down slowly, his mask vanishing to be replaced by the high-boned features. "No such luck for you mate. Right royal mess of our lives we've made and whether you like it or not, death isn't an answer. Oh, it'll end your pain, but it'll leave a lot in its wake. So you can keep on wallowing or you can be a man. Your choice."  
  
Xander stared at Spike for a long moment and then shook his head. "You have no idea how hard it is."  
  
"You've only screwed up for six years, Harris. I've been screwing up for over a hundred. I think I have a good idea."  
  
"So - what you've changed?"  
  
"Maybe." Spike shrugged his shoulders. "Don't know exactly. But I am not going to be the one to kill you and you aren't doing it while I'm around. So I guess you're out of luck."  
  
"Story of my life."  
  
Xander looked away from the vampire and shook his head. He felt naked, raw and beaten. He couldn't even convince the freak to kill him. So what did that leave for him?  
  
"So change the channel." Spike suggested.  
  
"What?" Xander dragged his attention back to the present.  
  
"If that's the story of your existence, then change the channel. Like a bad network, go to a better one."  
  
"It's not that easy."  
  
"It's not that hard."  
  
"Like you'd know."  
  
"You'd be surprised. You just have to get over yourself first. Now - clean up that mess. I'll get you some more coffee."   
  
Xander watched him go and felt a bitter, acrid taste in his mouth. He didn't want Spike to be his friend. But that's exactly what he'd just done and even Xander couldn't avoid admitting it. He'd locked himself away from the rest and it was the vampire he hated the most that wasn't letting him stay there.  
  
Okay, maybe second most, but still.  
  
He sat there for another long moment and then slowly moved to his feet to start gathering up the broken bits of the Scooby mug. It seemed a bit fitting that it was shattered now.  
  
Just like everything else. 


	8. The Long Summer 8

1 The Long Summer 8  
  
  
  
"Okay, so let me get this straight. You killed the father, had tea with the mother, then killed both her and the baby?"  
  
"No, well yes to the first part, but I didn't have tea with them. Dru did that."  
  
'Man, that's – sick."  
  
Spike shrugged. "That's the way it was. 'Sides, I figure that they would have probably died anyway. Where do you want these?"  
  
"Over there." Xander pointed Spike and the wheelbarrow full of bricks towards the framing. "And what do you mean you figure they would have died anyway? Random accidentally falling onto paring knives?"  
  
"No." Spike shook his head and started offloading the bricks into a neat stack. "It was winter. They were on the outskirts of Paris, not much in the way of supplies and not much help from the family in the city."  
  
"But you don't know for sure." Xander walked in a circle around him and mixing the mortar with a long stick.  
  
"So?" He finished emptying the wheelbarrow and pushed it back by the exit. You gonna need this wood out here?" He pointed a thumb towards the stacks in the back of the pickup.  
  
"In a bit, you can stack them by the counter – well, where the counter was. I need to frame one up and reinstall it." Xander settled down and started to lay the brick with a fresh spate of mortar between each one. "And so – " He called after Spike. "You don't KNOW that they would have died. So that still makes them victims. I can't see how you did them a favor."  
  
"Didn't say we did them a favor. We're vampires. We were hungry. They were available." Spike hoisted the 2x4s as if they were nothing and carried them in ten at a time. "It's the way it works, mate. You can shake it anyway you like, but vampires feed on humans. That's just the way it is. Anyway, it's your turn."  
  
Sighing, Xander settled another brick neatly into place. "Cordelia broke up with me on Valentine's Day – a few years ago. I was pretty whacked about it. So I went to see Amy – she's a witch. Blackmailed her into doing a love spell."  
  
He could feel Spike staring at him and shrugged a little.  
  
"It was stupid. But I wanted her to fall in love with me so I could dump her and make her understand how much it hurt. Course, my luck being the brilliant thing that it was, she was the only one protected from the love spell and everyone and I mean EVERY other female in Sunnydale seemed to want a piece of me."  
  
He paused in the silence and look over at the vampire who stood with one hand planted against the wall and the other obviously containing his mirth.  
  
"It's not funny." Xander scowled. "They were like ravening lunatics. Even Buffy, she was going to beat the snot out of Amy and then Amy turned her into a rat."  
  
That earned him an honest to goodness guffaw.  
  
"It's not funny." But his lips started to twitch. "And Angelus was going to kill me – until Drusilla stopped him because she had a thing to." He almost couldn't hear himself over Spike's laughter and then he realized that he was starting to grin. "Okay, so maybe it's a little bit funny. But you should have seen Joyce with that axe."  
  
"I have."  
  
And both men laughed. 


	9. The Long Summer 9

1 The Long Summer 9  
  
  
  
Xander stretched one arm, then the other as he slid on the plaid work shirt. All of his clothes were neatly stacked or placed where they were supposed to be. It was the first morning in months he didn't have to hunt up something or settle for a wrinkled shirt from the floor.  
  
His work boots, along with two pairs of sneakers and the solitary pair of dress shoes he owned were all neatly lined up at the foot of his bed. He dropped down to sit on the edge and pull on some socks. He could hear Spike moving in the other room, there was a smell of coffee that enticed him and if he wasn't mistaken, sizzling bacon.  
  
What was he doing?  
  
He stopped, one hand still on a work boot and stared at he still closed bedroom door. It was like waking up from a very long, restive sleep. Spike was staying at his apartment. He'd arrived night before last after some really odd crap happened at the work site. Xander's eyes traveled the room. The vampire cleaned everything up, made himself at home and despite Xander's rather weak attempts to get rid of him, he was still here.  
  
Shuddering, he yanked the boot on and laced it up. Time for the vampire to go, this was getting far to cozy for his tastes. He opened the bedroom door and strode out, all the while tucking his wallet into his back pocket. The scent of bacon, eggs, toast and coffee struck all at once in a dazzling allure that turned his stomach into knots.  
  
He was starving.  
  
"Ah right." Spike poked his head out of the kitchen. "Coffee there on the table, morning paper came early enough that I nicked it off the stoop. Breakfast be ready in just a minute. Going to have some orange juice?"  
  
Xander blinked at Spike. "Um, no. Coffee is fine."  
  
"Orange juice has vitamins." Did he just sing song that? Like a parent?  
  
Xander shuddered.  
  
"No, coffee's fine." He moved quickly to the table and sat down. The sip of coffee was more in self-defense, but the first taste was heaven. It was the strong bodied type, just enough sugar, and brewed so recently that Xander's toes curled despite his attempts to not enjoy it.  
  
"Right then." A plate was slid in front of him, bacon still popping a little and the butter melting into the toast. "Eat up. I'm just packing you up some sandwiches and a thermos to take to the site. I'll pull out something for dinner and meet you at the shop after sundown. I'd go earlier, but there's no easy access to the underground from here and I'm not in the favor of a suntan this early in the summer. Any preferences? Chicken? Steak? Maybe something with grilled onions?"  
  
Xander picked up his fork and blinked at Spike again. The vampire might as well have sprung a secondary head. "What?" He asked, feeling stupid.  
  
"You know, some grilled onions, a little fillet of steak, mozzarella or jack cheese on some thick bread? Really, quite good."  
  
"No, I meant what are you doing?"  
  
"Offering to fix dinner so you have something to eat while you work at the shop. And offering to deliver it so I can give you a hand. Well, I reckon if you want a hand at the tedium that you call work."  
  
"It's not tedious." Xander stabbed his fork into a piece of bread, sectioned it off and mopped up some egg yolk with it. "It's wood work, carpentry, build and creating."  
  
"It's payback and an apology." Spike vanished back into the kitchen. "And it still requires food. You're about as thin as a ghoul at the moment, can't see the point in you vanishing if you turn sideways."  
  
"Look, Spike – I'm still not sure why you're doing all this. But it's not going to work." He didn't sound very convincing.  
  
"What's not going to work?" Spike reappeared toting a blue lunch box, which he set on the table lightly. A large silver thermos was placed next to it.  
  
"This – domestic thing that you're doing."  
  
"I'm not trying to do anything mate, just lending you a hand till you get all ship shape again." Spike sat down in a chair opposite him. "I can go through the bills if you want, get them all prioritized and write out the checks. Then you can check them over and sign them when you come –"  
  
"Stop it!" He was going to stop eating to make his point, but he'd already cleaned up most of the plate without realizing it. His stomach was content with the offering and Xander couldn't believe how quickly he'd scarfed it all down.  
  
"Look, let's get this straight." He pointed the fork at Spike. "Undead vampire." He jerked the fork back to point at himself. "Alive disgusted guy. We're not friends. We're not buddies. We're not roommates and you certainly don't need to be making me dinner and looking after me, much less going through my bills."  
  
The fork hit the table with a clatter and Xander felt like he should thrust out his lower lip and stamp his foot to make the point. But he resisted the urge; he stood up abruptly, drained the coffee and went to grab the lunchbox and thermos.  
  
"Aren't you going to put those dishes in the sink?" Spike asked mildly.  
  
"No," Xander replied with belligerence. "If I want to live in a house full of dirty dishes and throw my napkin on the floor, I can. This is my apartment. Why don't you do us both a favor and just be gone when I get home?"  
  
He stomped toward the door, thermos under his arm and lunchbox in one hand. He found his work jacket, neatly cleaned and hung by the door along with his hard hat that looked suspiciously polished. With a snarl, he snatched up both and flung open the front door.  
  
"So was that chicken or steak then, mate?"  
  
"Steak." Xander muttered over his shoulder before slamming the door behind him. He was almost to the worksite when the import of the words hit him. 


	10. The Long Summer 10

The Long Summer 10  
  
  
Xander rolled his head around, trying to loosen up his neck muscles. He took a bite out of the sandwich that was packed into the lunch box and ignored the reckless little voice in the back of his mind that teased him about enjoying Spike's cooking. It was a sandwich, he told himself firmly. Doesn't matter who made it.  
  
"Xander." The voice was so close to him, he almost crawled up onto the hood of the truck to escape it. A combination of bread, roast beef and cheddar cheese lodged in his throat, cutting off his air supply.   
  
Wide-eyed, he swung his gaze to see Buffy staring at him with a small frown. He pounded his fist against his chest and tried to swallow the lump of sandwich, but it stubbornly refused to move. As though sensing his distress, Buffy pounded on his back and he coughed, sending the bit of sandwich flying.  
  
"Ow." Xander wheezed. "Don't do that." Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes and he turned his back to retrieve the thermos. There was enough coffee still inside that he could knock some back and sooth his aching throat.  
  
"Sorry." Buffy offered sheepishly, leaning against the hood of the truck. "I thought you heard me walking up."  
  
"No." Xander shook his head, regaining his composure. He took another bite out of the sandwich and chewed it with determination. It was a waste of a good sandwich to choke on it like that. "I didn't." He said around the mouthful.  
  
"So I gathered." Buffy folded her arms and put on adult-Buffy the expression she often seemed to save for Dawn. "Sooooo -" She drew out the word. "How are you?"  
  
"Good." Xander replied around another mouthful, flipping through the construction chart and making a few check marks here and there. "You?"  
  
"Oh, I'm fine. Sort of wondering why one of my best friends is treating me like a leper, but otherwise good."  
  
Xander glanced up from the clipboard and met her gaze for the first time. He swallowed the bite that now tasted like sandpaper and shrugged his shoulders. "I've been busy."   
  
"Too busy to return a phone call?" Buffy sounded skeptical. "Especially after the other night?"  
  
"Hey, you took care of it, didn't you?" Xander deferred. "Besides, it's been crazy. They've got us on a killer schedule here. Lots to do before the end of the month."  
  
"Uh huh." She wasn't buying. "What's wrong, Xander?"  
  
"Nothing, Buffy. You know, people don't have to have something wrong to be busy. It's not always about the end of the world or your friends skinning other people or even making nice with sexual Olympics and dead guys." His tone twisted harshly on the last and he bit down hard on another piece of sandwich to shut himself up.   
  
"I thought we were friends." Buffy said quietly.   
  
"We are friends." Xander washed down the mouthful and finally forced himself to look at her. He felt guilty immediately at the concern sheltered in her blue eyes. How many years had he waited to see more than loving friendship and concern in those depths? How many years had he been shoved aside for some super powerful freak or - well, poster boy for super boy scout?  
  
"Then why won't you tell me what is wrong?"  
  
"Because maybe you don't want to know." Xander answered.   
  
"I'm here now."  
  
"And later you'll be busy. Look, Buff - it's already been a long year. You and Dawn - you guys need to work on you. I just need some time to figure me back out again." He sighed. It sounded lame, even to him. "And I do have a lot of work to do."  
  
"On the hellmouth."  
  
Xander shrugged. "It's all the same to me. It pays the bills. It keeps me too busy to think."  
  
"This is of the good?" She sounded entirely too skeptical.  
  
"Yeah, it's of the good. At least right now." He looked down at the hood of his car and finished off the last bit of sandwich. It was good, despite the lump in his throat. "When I want to talk, I will call you. Okay?"  
  
"Promise?"  
  
"You want it in blood?" Xander's tone cruised harsh once more. "I just said I'd call."  
  
Buffy sighed. There was so much discomfort between them. He stole a glance at her profile. She was staring at the construction sight. He found himself wondering what was going through her head. Was she thinking about the first time she walked up the steps to Sunnydale? Or maybe the many nights they slaved over books in the library? Better yet, the night she found Kendra's body and Xander thought he'd lost Willow, too.   
  
Pain blossomed in his chest and he savagely pushed the thoughts aside.   
  
"Gotta get back to work." He tried for light. "Give the Dawnie a smoochie for me, okay?"  
  
He shoved the remnants of his lunch back into the box and then tossed all of it into the front of the car. Seizing up the clipboard, he all but ran back toward the site.  
  
"Xander?"   
  
He halted at her voice and looked back over his shoulder. She was sliding her sunglasses down to shield her eyes and waved her hand at him. He lifted his hand in casual wave and then moved with more purpose to where the guys were starting to drift back to work. He ignored the catcalls and whistles that followed him, since plenty had watched his interaction with the beautiful blonde.   
  
"We're going to start laying in the concrete along the sides, boys." Xander said in a voice that was surprisingly steady. "Let's get moving, sooner done the sooner we're outta here." They were all for that and Xander tossed one more glance over his shoulder before heading down into the pit.  
  
Buffy was gone.  
  
Just like he'd wanted, right? 


	11. The Long Summer 11

The Long Summer 11  
  
Work on the site progressed at a snail's pace that afternoon. Small accidents plagued their attempts to frame up the basement. Bert was sent to the hospital, a cut on his hand required ten stitches. John pulled his hat off for a moment and a loose joint slid, knocking him out and prompting an ambulance call. Kevin, shot himself in the foot, of all things with the nail gun.   
  
Xander sent him off to the hospital with another of the crew. He was down to four men and the rate of attrition was getting ridiculous. By four, when Jimmy managed to hit himself in the back of the head with a hammer, he called it quits for the day. The crew all but fled the scene.   
  
He stayed, finishing up securing the joint and picking up the various tools. One eye on the sky and one on his work, Xander s patience felt worn to a frazzle. He pulled down some plastic to lie over the exposed wood and made sure the pump was set up. If it rained, they'd need to be able to pump out the excess water.   
  
Loading a toolbox on one shoulder he started climbing upwards. The sky was darkening ominously. The storm the forecasters occasionally got right seemed to be rolling in ahead of sunset. Xander scowled at the purpling landscape. He just hoped he could get all the tools locked up before the skies opened up.  
  
A long fork of lightening creasing down the sky followed by a thunderous boom that was so close, Xander thought he felt the ground shake told him he wasn't going to have any such luck. Fat, heavy drops of water began to fall faster and faster. The drops grew thinner and as Xander dashed towards the tool shed, it felt like a hundred little razors were stabbing at his every step.  
  
Securing the box, he swiped a hand over his face and stared at the uplifted fingers. They were coated in blood. He opened the door carefully to look back outside. The rain was coming down in hard, sheeting waves. He couldn't see the pit from his vantage point.   
  
But it was falling rain. Not blood.  
  
This was of the good. Grabbing a handkerchief out of his back pocket, he swiped it over his face, mopping at the small set of cuts over one of his eyes. Probably just banged into something. Stuffing the handkerchief back into his pocket, he set his hard hat more firmly and dashed out into the storm.  
  
He ignored the stabbing sensation as he all but slid down the ladder into the site. The plastic was secure. He pulled a few more bits around the jackhammer and then scooped up the pair of casings that housed the power tools. He was clambering back up the ladder when a pain blossomed in his chest.   
  
Breath lodged in his throat, it hurt so bad he could barely open his lips to scream. He pushed upwards. He needed to get out of the rain. He kicked a foot at the pump's controller and it rattled to life.   
  
Keeping his head down, he pushed onwards for the tool shed and it took every ounce of effort to yank the door open. He stumbled inside and dropped the casings. Hands to his chest, he blinked balefully at himself. His work shirt was shredded. He lifted away a remaining piece of fabric and stared at it.  
  
The t-shirt beneath it was sopping, but from the stinging sensation it was sopping with more than rainwater. His hands came away sticky and red. Who the hell said it could rain razorblades? Xander thought grumpily. He sat down, yanking his hat off and running his fingers through his hair. Thankfully, there seemed to be none of those little slices on his scalp.  
  
He could hear the rain outside sizzling against the shack walls. He was just going to have to wait it out, he thought. The storm was likely to blow over fairly quickly. They didn't seem to care for lingering over long in the area.   
  
"It's coming." A voice whispered.   
  
Xander blinked and shook himself out of the half-stupor he was starting to fall into. He looked around the shack, but the only sound was the wind whistling. Leaning his head back against the wall, he let his eyes close again.  
  
"Just the wind." He muttered. "Just the wind."  
  
But the wind seemed to continue its mournful recitation. "It's coming." It teased, whatever it was. Xander ignored it and just tried to catch a doze till he could escape the shed for his car. 


	12. The Long Summer 12

The Long Summer 12   
  
  
After an hour spent locked within the shed, Xander finally emerged to survey the damage. The site seemed relatively normal if one counted puddles of water that steamed normal. Limping, Xander sidestepped the puddles and made his way over to the pump.  
  
Or what was left of the pump. It was so much twisted and melted metal now. The dark clouds overhead hung ominously as he peered over the edge into the pit. The plastic covers were seemingly gone and the wood bracers looked like they'd been hacked into so many splinters.   
  
Many were blackened and smoking.  
  
He swore at the destruction and ran a blood-grimed hand over his face. His arms and chest ached. Every movement seemed to incite the little cuts to open and sting. A glance down at himself confirmed his opinion in the shed. His t-shirt was soaked with blood.   
  
Sending a loose rock skittering with a violent kick, he made his way back to the now more beaten up pick up. The glass seemed relatively intact, but the already peeling paint job looked hideous. The pock marked metal showed signs of stress along the hood and sides. The contents in the bed weren't much better.  
  
He was going to have to make a swing toward the lumberyard before going to the shop. There didn't even seem to be a splinter left in the bed, just charred lumps of the substance formerly known as wood.   
  
"You all right there, son?"   
  
Xander lifted his head from the damage to glance around and saw an older black man standing a few feet away. His hair was all peppery with its sprinkles of gray and his wrinkled face seemed kind.  
  
"Yeah, just - " He was looking for a way to explain it.  
  
"Got caught in the rain?" The man edged closer.   
  
"Yeah." Xander nodded, running his hand through his disheveled hair. "Caught me a bit by surprise."  
  
"Should get those cuts tended to." The man suggested. "You working on rebuilding the school?"  
  
"Trying. Getting behind with all accidents this week. Expect clean up will delay us a bit more." Xander looked over at the worksite and sighed. He should get the clipboard out and document the damage. He'd need to order a new pump. He could also probably kiss off any bonus this summer.  
  
"Tricky business."   
  
"Huh?" He'd nearly forgotten the old man, who was now standing right next to him.   
  
"Building the school. Tricky business in this part of town. Might have been better on the other side of Kentfield Park."  
  
"Maybe so." Xander shrugged. "They didn't ask me."  
  
"I remember when they built the other one." This close his dark brown eyes possessed a fathomless quality and they didn't quite seem to see Xander.   
  
"What other one?"  
  
"The one the little girl blew up." He laughed then. "Fine time that was, blowing up that old wreck."  
  
"Yeah, I was there." Xander nodded.  
  
"I know." The old man laughed again, a deep and rich baritone of a laugh. "It was a fitting ending for that pill of a building."  
  
"How so?"  
  
"You don't know the story?" Now the crinkled face was looking at him with speculation.   
  
"No - can't say I do."  
  
"They built the first school there in 1881, the second in 1898 after the first one burned down. The second burned down in 1904 and they didn't build another until 1912, got delayed though, by the big war, they didn't finish it until 1921. The third one was a bit funny, riots in the sixties - took it completely apart. Kind of strange though - them riots happened inside - lots of students died that year. I was here though when we started rebuilding it in 1972 - or thereabouts. That was the fourth school. The one that girl blew up. You building number five, my boy."  
  
"Wow." Xander nodded slowly. "Thanks for the history lesson. I need to - "  
  
The old man seized him suddenly and shook him hard. "Pay attention boy, this school is death, it's built on death, bred to death and promises nothing but death. It lives there - and it waits. It likes it when it's all destroyed, because that brings the builders back. Don't build this school. Do you hear me??" His voice rose in fever pitch and then ended abruptly as he released Xander.  
  
Xander took an involuntary step backward and stared at the old man. "Oookay."  
  
"Have a good evening, son. Don't forget, make sure you get them cuts tended to." He smiled kindly again and then shuffled off on his way. Xander stared after him, mouth slightly agape.  
  
What a loony old man.  
  
Shaking his head, he looked back at the truck and tried to remember where he was. He caught sight of the silver clipboard and snapped his fingers. Damage report, then the lumberyard. He still had plenty of time to get the counters and bookshelves measured out and set up. 


	13. The Long Summer 13

The Long Summer 13  
  
  
The ominous clouds broke shortly before sunset and allowed a dazzling red haze to fall on the horizon. Xander admired it as he pulled out of the lumberyard and drove across town towards the magic shop. The old radio in the dash was cooperating to play a lively set of tunes that reminded him of his junior high days.   
  
He found himself almost wistful for the simpler times. He was the class clown. His best friend was the class nerd. It held a certain animated sense of perfection through the long tunnel of memory.   
  
So what if he'd slept in the backyard at Christmas? There was Jessie to hang with on the weekends, skateboarding by the mall and Willow to pester for homework advice and sometimes, just to copy off of. Those were the days, when it was just the three of them tooling around.   
  
His mouth twisted into a wry grin as he recalled the first glimpse of a laptop through the glass at the computer store. Willow stood frozen in place. The grin emitted a low laugh as he recalled bodily picking her up to move her. Roasting marshmallows and making s'mores over the barbecue pit in Jessie's backyard; or sneaking a beer or two under the canvas cover of Jessie's Dad's boat.   
  
As he swung the pickup into the alleyway, he was damn near humming. He could probably measure, cut and set up the counter tonight. Then polish off the bookshelves on Tuesday. There was definite potential.   
  
Xander unlocked the back door and tossed his keys into the air with one hand and catching them behind his back with the other. He used a small piece of wood to wedge the door open before returning to the truck to grab his first plank of wood.  
  
"Need a hand with that?" It was the second time that day he felt the need to crawl up into the truck and yelp like a scared puppy.   
  
"Jesus. H. Gensundheit!" Xander swore and glared at the blonde man standing not two feet away with another large lunchbox and thermos in his hands. "Do you mind not sneaking up on me and trying to scare me into the next life?"   
  
"Sorry, mate. I wasn't sneaking. I was out front, saw you pull around and figured I'd come back and give you a hand." Spike was frowning as he looked at him. "What the hell happened to you?"  
  
"Huh?" Xander's heart was resuming its normal four beat cadence and he glanced down at the stained shirt. "Oh - the shirt. Small accident at the site. No biggie." He shrugged it off and hauled the plank out. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"I brought your dinner and said I'd pop round to help. A little accident? Someone stab themselves in an artery and bleed all over you?" Spike followed him into the shop and set the lunch box and thermos down to the side. He stripped off the black leather jacket he was sporting and tossed it on the back of a still reasonably sturdy chair.   
  
"Just had a string of bad luck today. Couple of guys getting over-excited with power tools." Xander shrugged again and tried not to wince. Sudden motions reminded the little cuts along his arms and shoulders that they needed to sting, a lot.  
  
"Uh huh." Spike's tone was skeptical. "I'll get the rest of that lot inside. You eat. Food should still be hot."   
  
Xander pulled his tape measure out of a pocket and scowled after the vampire. He wondered if Spike knew just how irritating he was?   
  
Oh probably, Xander answered himself sardonically. Why else would he be hanging out with me? He ignored his own question and glanced at the lunch box. He stared at it thoughtfully as Spike passed him by with several boards stacked on one shoulder.   
  
"Counter?" He asked.  
  
"Yep." Xander nodded. His stomach rumbled its ascent to his own internal musings, so he pocketed the tape and wandered over to the lunchbox. Popping it open, the smell of freshly grilled onions, melted cheese and steak assaulted his senses.   
  
Ravenous, he tore into the sandwich like a small hurricane. He saw Spike smirk as he sauntered back out to the truck and Xander resisted the urge to use a rude gesture. Working men need to eat, he reasoned. If Spike wanted to volunteer as a food caterer, well more power to him.   
  
He licked his fingers cleaned and carried the thermos with him into the front room. The measuring tape found its way into his hand. He started with where the counter used to sit; he measured the floor area and then considered it. He could build the standard rectangle, but it made more sense to use a u shape. It would afford more counter space for specials and tagging, but it wouldn't intrude in the shops necessary space.  
  
Yeah, that would work.   
  
He pulled out a small notepad and jotted down the measurements along with a small sketch of his intent. Spike appeared at his shoulder and seemed to be studying the drawing in Xander's hand.  
  
  
"Do you mind?" Xander asked dryly.   
  
"Not at all. I think she'd fancy the use of that. Give her more space without taking up saleable floor space."  
  
"And you'd know that, hmm?" He felt his mouth tighten and he turned to see Spike staring at him with a bland look. "What?"  
  
"That's your blood, mate." Spike nodded to his shirt.  
  
"Connoisseur?" Xander jabbed.   
  
"No. Just smelled it enough at various points. So what kind of accident did you have that made you bleed all over like that?"  
  
Xander shrugged. "Look, I have work to do. You going to help or you going to jabber?"  
  
"What the hell are you two doing?" A third voice interrupted and they turned to see Giles standing framed in the new doorway to the back room. "Anyone?" 


	14. The Long Summer 14

The Long Summer 14  
  
  
  
Xander blew out a breath as he eyed the former librarian across the sawdust littered floor and wondered why he felt like he'd just arrived at the principal's office. He saw Spike's expression change as he stared at his fellow Brit.   
  
Giles took another step forward and surveyed the changes Xander had wrought over the last few weeks. "Xander? Spike?" He prompted.  
  
"Working on getting some measurements." Xander gestured to the area he was standing in. "I was going to get a new counter measured out and built tonight."  
  
"I see." Giles gaze slid to the blonde vampire. "And you?"  
  
"Just carrying in the wood. Trying to be helpful." There was something deeply subdued in Spike's voice. Xander looked at him askance once or twice, but the vampire seemed to be looking anywhere but at him.  
  
"Ahh." There was a wealth of meaning in that sound. "Well, Spike would you excuse us, please. I'd like to have a word with Xander."  
  
"Right then. Like me to nip down the corner for a spot of tea?"  
  
"I'm not sure anywhere around here is capable of making a decent cup of tea." Giles demurred.   
  
"Probably not, but there's a new pub opened up called The Mucky Duck. They seem to have the fish and chips down, I reckon they might shake up a decent cuppa." Spike grinned sheepishly.  
  
Suck up, Xander thought and glanced down at the notepad in his hand. He decided to double-check his measurements while the two Brits argued out the philosophical offering of a decent cup of tea. The tape snapped back into its canister and Xander stood, noting that his initial measurements were sound.   
  
"Xander," Giles spoke quietly. He turned to see the watcher standing a couple of feet away, his hands resting inside the pockets of his slacks. "Do you mind taking a small break so we can chat?"  
  
"Actually, I do." His answer appeared to surprise the unflappable Brit. "I've got a lot to do and the interruptions just slow me down. So if you don't mind talking, I'll just get the wood set up to cut."  
  
"All right." Giles nodded slowly. He waited for Xander to head into the backroom. He was silent while Xander set aside his notepad and started sorting through the pile of wood.   
  
Xander was happy enough for the peace and quiet while he picked out the boards he would use to frame up the base. They would only need to be trimmed rather than cut. He worked in silence for several minutes and it wasn't until he set up the power saw and locked down a board to cut that Giles spoke again.  
  
"Willow tells me you haven't answered her letters."   
  
He went very still and took a deep breath, which was a mistake. The cuts on his chest protested the force of the inhale. He chewed his upper lip and took several smaller, shallow breaths before marking the line he wanted to cut.   
  
"I've been a bit busy."   
  
"Too busy to write?"  
  
"Constructions at an all time high in Sunnydale." Xander quipped. "You know, the more the merrier."  
  
"I see."   
  
"Well, you will in a few months. We have a new housing development going in and we've even rated another Starbuck's. This one's at the mall." Xander chuckled. "So I guess we're a two Starbuck's town now."  
  
"Xander - Willow's been through a great deal. She's making progress in Devon, but I think it would help her to hear from her old friends - " Giles seemed to hesitate and Xander used the opportunity to drop the saw into place and turn it on. It whined its way through the quick slice of wood.   
  
"I'll try to get a postcard out this weekend." Xander looked up from the wood as he discarded the cut piece to the side. "You think we could play catch up later? I really want to get this counter rebuilt."  
  
"Why are you doing it?" Giles asked, a small frown wrinkling his brow.  
  
"Insurance company denied the claim. Didn't Anya tell you?" Xander shrugged and winced simultaneously. "So I figured that I'd get a head start on the majority of it."  
  
"She mentioned - something along those lines. But she didn't tell me you were going to retro-fit the building."  
  
"She doesn't know." Spike was back. Would the joy ever end? "Here you go." He was handing a Styrofoam cup to Giles.  
"Right - thank you - Spike." He turned his head to look at the vampire and Xander was glad the heat was turned off of him.   
  
"Why don't you two go bond over some Earl Grey and let me get some work done?" He asked. He didn't wait for an answer and ignored the nearly mirrored expressions they studied him with as he carried the wood back into the main shop. All he wanted was his hammer, nails and the smell of good wood.   
  
He could understand that.   
  
Thankfully, they seemed to have taken his advice, because when he went back for more supplies the backroom was empty and the alleyway entrance locked.   
  
Finally.  
  
Peace and quiet. 


	15. The Long Summer 15

The Long Summer 15  
  
  
  
The evening passed into night and Xander found his way home to his quiet apartment sans the vampire. He was profoundly grateful for the latter. He locked his door and double bolted it. He might not need an invitation to come in anymore, but he would need a key.  
  
There was a handful of mail in his hand and Xander tossed that onto his chair. He would sort through it after he showered the day's destruction off. The hot water coursed over the cuts like so many daggers of pain. He was almost numb to it by the time he got around to scrubbing them.  
  
The damage didn't seem so bad after he cleaned it up. An easy dozen or more tiny slices that were almost too small to be noticeable. They stung when he rubbed antibiotic on them, but otherwise he couldn't see them.  
  
Sliding on a pair of shorts, he walked out of the bedroom and straight for the kitchen. A cold beer found its way into his hand and the note sitting on top of a piece of Tupperware irked him more than the cuts did.  
  
Xander - Food for a late snack here. Sandwich for lunch tomorrow below. See you at the shop - Spike.  
  
He slammed the fridge shut with vehemence and swore. Why couldn't that stupid vampire just go away and leave him alone? He didn't know the answer to the question, so he settled for popping open the bottle of beer and taking a long pull.  
  
As he lowered it, his eyes went to the small stack of envelopes sitting on the kitchen table. Oh what the hell, he thought as he trudged over and scooped them up. He wandered back into the living room and cleared the mail off his chair so he could sit down.  
  
It took the full bottle of beer and most of a second before he slit the most recent envelope open. The handwriting was intimately familiar and he stared at the smooth pen strokes with a sinking feeling in his stomach. His skin felt cold and clammy. The taste of beer went acrid on his tongue and he hastily slurped back another long drink.  
  
Xander closed his eyes. He concentrated on breathing before unfolding the two very thin slips of paper. He drained the second bottle and then focused his eyes on the paper in his hands.  
  
  
  
Xander,  
  
It feels strange to be writing to you and wondering if you are even getting these. I know the ladies tell me that they are sending my mail out; but I feel strange even having to ask them that question. I am not allowed to travel away from the compound. I'm lucky that the grounds are beautiful. If you have been getting these - could you please take flowers to Tara's grave on the 12th. It was an important day for us. I wish I could be the one who would do it. I'm not ready for that. I can barely imagine that she isn't there. I think of her as being at the college, in her dorm, working on papers. Or maybe at the little coffee bar on Main, reading a good novel. I shouldn't think of her at all, it hurts so much when I do. I'm sorry I'm going on like this. I would like to hear from you - to know how you are. I haven't heard much from Buffy. A postcard or two, I guess that slaying is keeping her busy. How is Anya? Have you two made up yet? I owe her such a huge apology and I want the two of you to be -  
  
  
  
The letter crumpled in his fist and he found that he couldn't continue reading. His chest hurt and his eyes were burning. He remembered walking into the blast of power as it poured from Willow. He remembered the gut wrenching sensation of being pulled in every direction.  
  
"If the world is going to end - then this is where I want to be." He'd told her. "Right here - with my best friend. I love you."  
  
He doubled over as the tears started splashing hotly down his face. He launched himself out of the chair and stumbled into the kitchen. He wrenched another beer from the refrigerator. He drained it in three or four painful gulps and left it on the counter as he scooped out another.  
  
He stared at the crumpled letter in his hand. It looked like a wounded thing, all smashed and pulpy. He transferred his gaze to the beer. Slowly, as though in a haze, he walked out of the kitchen, dropping the crumple letter in the trash as his hand flicked off the light. 


	16. The Long Summer 16

The Long Summer 16  
  
  
  
The next day dawned with little alteration save that he felt bleary and his head ached with abominably. A fast, cold shower shocked his system and when he wandered into the living room he took a perverse moment to wonder where his Mary Poppins was. The moment he realized the trace of his thoughts, he altered course from the kitchen and took a direct path to the front door.  
  
The work site was a mess, but what was left of his crew put it together by lunch. Xander managed to recruit in two part time crews to fill out his injured roster. They integrated well with his boys. By late afternoon, the project wasn't back on track, but the clean up was complete and new support struts were in place.  
  
It went so well that Xander was able to let them go by six-thirty and dash off to the shop. He scouted the block twice before pulling into the alleyway. A peek inside assured him that it was Brit free. He relaxed fractionally and dived into his work. The counter took shape in short order and he was sanding the corners by the time true darkness fell. The stain would wait until he was completely done, but he leaned towards light oak.  
  
The overall effect would make the shop lighter and airier. It could use a beautiful setting to make a new beginning. He swiped his forehead with the back of his hand and leaned back to survey his work. It wasn't half bad, he thought to himself. His eyes went to the wall behind the counter.  
  
He could set shelves into them, shallow and flush against the wall. They wouldn't intrude into the counter space, but would increase the display area. The idea sketched itself out as he found his beaten notepad in his back pocket.  
  
Mapping the idea out with a pencil, a low humming sound intruded on his design space. He glanced around for the source. The sound itself was pervasive and alluring. His pencil lowered as he started to move around the shop. Maybe there was a radio playing loudly in a car out front.  
  
He approached the door and pulled the cover back to look. A dark vision moved sinuously to the music that seemed to wrap around it. He flipped the lock and opened the door fully.  
  
There was a woman dancing in the puddles of light formed by the street lamps. Her white gown seemed to shimmer as she danced in and out. As he stepped into the street, the music rolled towards him.  
  
She was singing.  
  
It was so beautiful.  
  
He stood and watched her swaying figure move to the dulcet melody. He didn't recognize the tune, but it reminded him of Enya with the way it melted over his senses. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as the dancer slid around the pool of light closest to the store.  
  
She came closer, alluring and enchanting at once.  
  
He wanted to ask her to dance.  
  
The notepad slid away into his back pocket. The gloves were tossed back into the shop. He wiped his palm over his lips as he watched her movements. Her music was mesmerizing and her dancing the most alluring he'd ever glimpsed.  
  
On her next pass, he dared chance and stepped into her path.  
  
"May I?" He asked boldly.  
  
She paused, dark shadows hiding her expression from him. "Only if you will dance with Miss Edith, too."  
  
Xander tilted his head and then saw the beautiful little girl standing in the woman's shadow. He smiled at her.  
  
"It would be my pleasure." He offered his hand first to the little girl and is other hand to the enchantress.  
  
She laughed with delight and he felt a shock tingle through him as their hands joined. She started singing softly once more and he joined them in their round into and out and of the pools of light.  
  
A magnificent sensation sang through him as he surrendered to the music.  
  
In some sad, small corner of his mind, he acknowledged it was the happiest he felt in months. He locked away that sad, small thought and threw away the key. He wanted this release and this freedom.  
  
He wanted it desperately. 


	17. The Long Summer 17

The Long Summer 17  
  
  
  
How long they danced, Xander didn't know nor did he care. His eyes would meet the little girl's and he would just laugh at the glory of it. Her soft giggles filled his ears like water babbling over rocks in a brook.  
  
A hand caressed his cheek, encouraging his eyes up towards the raven-haired beauty that led them in their sway and song. Her eyes gleamed with suppressed mirth and he saw her lips twitch upwards into a warm smile.  
  
"I love to dance." She whispered.  
  
"I've never loved it as much as I do right now." Xander confessed.  
  
They twined widdershins around the light pole, back and forth, and then to clockwise they returned. He couldn't help it, he started laughing and trying to sing along with her merry tune, but as he did, she changed the beat and it grew softer and more sensuous.  
  
Her arms twined about his neck and the idea that some beautiful stranger was even giving him the time of day evaporated as his breath stuck in his throat.  
  
"Would you like a little kiss?" She asked. "A kiss for the lady that dances."  
  
"Yes." He breathed without hesitation. "I think I've been looking for you all my life."  
  
"Somehow, I rather doubt that mate." Spike's most unwelcome voice shattered the beauty of the evening like a miss-played note on a large instrument.  
  
Xander whirled and pressed the lady behind him. "Go away, Spike."  
  
"Yes," his lady whispered with delight in her voice. "Go away you bad, bad boy."  
  
"See, even a stranger can tell what an evil thing you are." Xander's voice raised an octave before settling down again. "It's all right." He assured the lovely woman over his shoulder. "He won't hurt me."  
  
"Look, Harris." Spike shook his head. "Just - go back in the store, mate. You really don't know what you're doing."  
  
"Shush." The woman answered before Xander could and a hand slid around to turn his eyes away from Spike. "Don't listen to the bad, bad little boy. He's run off and left his mummy all alone."  
  
"Spike has a mom?" Xander blinked. A small pain in the base of his skull made itself known as her hand took a grasp on his hair. "What are you doing?" "She's about to rip your head off and suck on the juices, boy." Spike appeared right next to them.  
  
"Leave her alone!" Xander turned as the hand on his hair relaxed and he pushed himself between Spike and the woman. "Isn't it bad enough that you have to sniff around every other woman in my life, can't you leave her alone? Or do you have a thing for the women I meet first?"  
  
"Actually mate - I knew her a long time before you did."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Tsk-tsk, my little boy is so very bad, isn't he Miss Edith?"  
  
Xander's world sat sideways on its axis and began a precarious spin towards the downside. He turned his head slowly and looked at the beautiful waif that held his hand so tightly.  
  
It was a doll.  
  
A filthy, ratty, eyeless, doll.  
  
He let out a yelp and flung it away. His gaze wrenched to Drusilla who smiled at him with that leprous insanity that seemed to cloak her sleek form like a fine mink.  
  
"Oh my god."  
  
"Not quite." Spike and Drusilla replied in unison before rounding on each other. Their gazes meshed with a violence that left Xander reeling as he backpedaled away.  
  
He'd danced with Drusilla.  
  
He kissed her.  
  
His hand fumbled to his mouth and he wiped at it violently.  
  
"Oh, you've gone and hurt Miss Edith's feelings." Drusilla advised as her face changed from brilliant beauty to fanged demon. "You shouldn't have done that."  
  
"This is the part where you run." Spike warned as he intercepted Drusilla's strike and threw her backwards.  
  
Xander backed up another pace and then another. He tripped and fell on his ass. His wild-eyes stared at the two locked in combat. Drusilla's hand came back and raked across Spike's face, leaving a bloody ruin behind.  
  
"You naughty, naughty boy. Trying to be like Daddy?" She was taunting. "Wanted Daddy's little Slayer so you went and got a soul, just like Daddy." Now her taunt became a wail. "First Grandmamma is my daughter and then she is dust and now my lovely Spikey is all shiny and effulgent." Her wail cut off and she was all hisses and attacks again.  
  
Spike.  
  
A soul?  
  
Xander finally paid attention to the one decent thing Spike'd said to him since he'd reappeared in Xander's life.  
  
He ran. 


	18. The Long Summer 18

The Long Summer 18  
  
  
  
Xander possessed enough sense to circle the block and grab his truck. Throwing it into gear, he drove wildly out of the alleyway and onto the street. The truck fishtailed with the force that he pushed down on the accelerator. He leaned into the steering wheel, willing the vehicle to speeds beyond its capabilities.  
  
He raced across town and didn't slow an inch until he jerked into his parking space. The keys trembled in his fingers as he dashed up the stairs toward his apartment. The lock resisted the key so Xander forced the issue, shoving his way into his own apartment. He threw the door closed. The locks twitched into place with the twist his wrist.  
  
He stood there in the silence punctuated only by the frenetic beating of his own heart. His mind raced. His stomach roiled. He lurched towards the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet in time. His stomach emptied itself with a violence that left him holding the wall to keep himself up right.  
  
How long he leaned there, he couldn't be sure. His halting feet carried him to the sink. A splash of cold water helped to rinse out his mouth. More splashes washed his face. He straightened and stared at himself in the mirror.  
  
"You pathetic idiot." The mirror stated quietly. "You ran away."  
  
"Yeah, what else was I supposed to do?" Xander's voice carried defeat like a banner. "I didn't know it was Drusilla."  
  
"So? You've fought demons before."  
  
"Correction, I've struggled with them. Most of the time I get pulverized."  
  
"Pathetic."  
  
"So?" Xander demanded harshly. The sallow face staring back at him filled with malice.  
  
"So? You spend your hours wishing the world would go away and then whimpering because it has. You waste time on projects for people who don't care about you and your letting that creature look after you."  
  
His shoulders slumped. "It's not like that."  
  
"Isn't it?"  
  
"It didn't used to be like that." Xander scooped up another handful of water and splashed his face. It ran in rivulets down his cheeks and dripped onto the porcelein.  
  
"What if I tell you, that you can change all that?" The image in the mirror challenged him.  
  
"I'd tell you that maybe you've had one too many. And I think that's a good idea right about now. Especially since I'm standing in here talking to myself." Xander shut off the light switch and escaped the bathroom.  
  
He couldn't escape his own thoughts. The beer helped. He drained the dregs off the sixth one when the knock sounded at the front door. He turned his bleary gaze from the darkness of the living room to gaze impassively at the door.  
  
"Xander?"  
  
Spike.  
  
Of course.  
  
He stood with care and crossed the room towards the kitchen. The knock sounded at the door again, a bit more insistent this time. Xander reached into the fridge and pulled out the last beer. He uncapped it and wandered back into the living room.  
  
"Xander - you all right mate?" The door muffled Spike's voice.  
  
Xander lifted the beer bottle towards the door in silent salute, but he made no move to open it. Not tonight. The vampire didn't belong here.  
  
Not even one with a soul.  
  
The thought alone encouraged him to take another long drink. 


	19. The Long Summer 19

The Long Summer 19  
  
  
  
"Xander, please stop and talk to me for a moment." Giles' instructed as he followed Xander around the work site.  
  
"Look, G-man." Xander held up his hand to stifle the Brit's continuous monologue. "I appreciate your concern. I'm fine. Everything's fine. Except this is my work site. We work here. You're not with the working flow."  
  
"Please don't be tiresome, Xander. This is extremely important."  
  
"My paycheck is extremely important, too. I'm already several days in delay. Can we do this another time?"  
  
"No." Buffy announced as she circled around Giles and folded her arms. "We can't. This is pretty deep, Xander. We're all worried about you."  
  
He sighed and looked away from the pair of looks being directed at him. His crew watched, despite trying to avoid looking like they were watching. When Xander attempted eye contact, they each became deeply interested in the project they were supposed to be working on.  
  
"Fine." Xander slammed the metal clipboard shut. "Let's get out of the pit and we'll talk." He didn't want for their responses and charged across the work area to the ladder. He climbed out.  
  
They caught up with him next to the truck, which looked worse in the direct sunlight than it did in the shadows of night.  
  
"What is with you?" Buffy demanded as she walked up to him. Her expression was a wrinkle of concern and frustration. "This is serious and you're all bent about some boards going up on a place we shouldn't be building on anyway."  
  
"You're not building on it." Xander said patiently. "I am. Or I would be if the interruptions would disappear."  
  
"Xander." The warning in Giles' voice came through loud and clear. "Spike informed me of your encounter with Drusilla."  
  
"And?"  
  
"We are merely concerned about the amount of preternatural activity that is occurring."  
  
"Like this is anything new for Sunnydale?" Xander shook his head and began to turn to reach inside the truck for his thermos. Buffy's hand on his arm halted his motion and yanked him back around.  
  
"Look, you're playing no return call, no hang out and avoid guy really well. Now I hear you're dancing with Drusilla by the pale moonlight. Wanna lose the Joker like attitude and rejoin the program?" Buffy's eyes narrowed on him.  
  
"I'm sorry, I didn't pass go and I didn't collect two hundred dollars. I'm busy. It's called having a life."  
  
"It's called about to get knock on your -"  
  
"Buffy, please." Giles intervened. "Enough, both of you. Let's not make a difficult situation anymore difficult, shall we?"  
  
Xander felt pleased that he wasn't the only one receiving the G-man evil eye. "This is great just hanging the hang and chatting the chat. But I'm a construction worker. I have a crew that's constructing. Standing here isn't very constructive. Does anyone see where I'm going with this?"  
  
"Yeah. Straight to - fine. Fine. I'll be over here. Shutting up." She made a face at Giles before retreating. Xander bit his tongue as she put into action her statement. There was no regret in seeing her retreat, but guilt surfaced briefly.  
  
"I understand things are extremely difficult for you, right now." Giles said. "And you may think that I am patronizing you, which I assure you. I am not."  
  
Xander sighed.  
  
"It's been a difficult several months. Don't shut out your friends. Buffy wants to help. So do I. Drusilla is very dangerous and extremely alluring." Giles removed his glasses and polished them with trademark efficiency.  
  
"Giles - I know how dangerous Drusilla is. I was in the library with Kendra. Remember? Know all about her spooky mojo and stuff. I was just tired last night. Thrown for a loop. Better now. No dancing with devil for me."  
  
Giles looked at him skeptically.  
  
"Scout's honor."  
  
"As you wish, Xander. Will you at least promise me that you will let someone know if you need help?"  
  
"Sure." Xander nodded. "I need help right now."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Yes. I need some kind, but overly involved friends to go away so I can get some work done."  
  
"Hmmm."  
  
Xander plastered on a bright smile. "I'm Xander the handyman. Got a library to build."  
  
Giles acquiesced to the statement and Xander abandoned him with a half-wave to Buffy. He waited near the ladder to the pit and breathed a sigh of relief when they were gone. A half-heard sound drifted past and it sounded far too much like laughter.  
  
He suppressed a shiver and got himself back to work. 


	20. The Long Summer 20

The Long Summer 20  
  
  
  
The day went from bad to worse. Not counting the interruption created by a well meaning Buffy and Giles. The worksite suffered several more 'accidents.' Xander found that he wasn't the only one starting to believe in jinxes. He lost two men who simply quit. It took nearly two hours worth of paperwork to file the day's report. He also needed to request replacements for the men who left him hanging.  
  
It could be said that day officially sucked.  
  
It couldn't get worse, Xander told himself. That, of course, was his first mistake. By the time he arrived at the Magic Box, it was nearly eight. The lights were on and Xander gripped a nice hammer as he made his way inside.  
  
Boxes stacked to the ceiling filled the backroom. His brow furrowed as he ventured further into the area. Someone removed the stacked boards from their space and more boxes filled the area.  
  
Xander started to open the door into the main shop just as it burst inwards. He yelped and leapt backwards, hammer at ready. Anya yelped in unison, then glared.  
  
"What are you doing lurking back here?" She demanded.  
  
"I'm not lurking."  
  
"You're in the backroom, sneaking in from the back door. With a hammer?" She eyed the instrument with a pair of arched brows.  
  
"I always come in the backdoor. Draws less attention. Where are my boards?"  
  
"What boards?"  
  
"The ones that were stacked right there!" Xander pointed to an area occupied by a dozen boxes.  
  
"Oh. I threw those out."  
  
"You what??"  
  
"They were taking up inventory space!" Anya glared at him. "Why were you storing boards here?"  
  
"I wasn't storing them - I -" Sounds from the front tickled his senses. Xander's sentence hung in the air as he moved around Anya and walked out to the front of the shop. Half a dozen workmen were slapping up shelves while another appeared to be setting up glass in the front window.  
  
Anya came up behind him and glanced first at him, then at the workmen. "I was able to collect some money on the undamaged stock on Ebay." She said by way of explanation. "Giles gave me the rest when I spoke to him a few days ago. That's our stock in the backroom. Should be able to open the doors in a few days. Isn't it wonderful?"  
  
Xander said nothing. He watched the workman busily filling in all the areas that he'd framed up. The counter was shaped differently. A section was removed from his original design.  
  
Someone else brushed past with a murmured excuse me. He turned his head to see the bricks he'd painstakingly set into place were being brushed with a light lacquer. The stairs to the loft were also completed.  
  
"Xander?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Did you need something?" Anya stared at him expectantly.  
  
He looked down into her eyes and then shook his head slowly. "No. Just going to go home."  
  
"All right. Good bye." She walked away, returning to supervising the rebuilding of her shop. Xander stared after her, one part of his mind screaming at him to go tell her what he'd done.  
  
The rest of him ignored that part, however, turning on his heel and exiting as quietly as he'd arrived.  
  
What else was there for him to do? 


	21. The Long Summer 21

The Long Summer 21  
  
  
  
He debated going home. Home felt empty, however. If he thought about it for any length, he would admit to himself that all of his hard work was an apology.  
  
Spike's assumption on that front turned out to be far more accurate than Xander cared to admit. He detoured his route home towards the skewed side of Sunnydale. As Cordelia once labeled it, the bad side of town lay about a hundred yards from the good side of Sunnydale.  
  
Of course, objectifying good and bad in Sunnydale didn't seem to fall into one clear category or another. He pulled the beaten pickup onto a dingy, gray street with pockmarked potholes.  
  
He locked the vehicle out of habit before strolling to the door. Smoke wafted into the street as he pulled the heavy, battered door wide. The heavy odors of sweat, liquor and cigarettes perfumed the air. He shoved the beads aside and strolled into the main room of the small bar.  
  
Willie looked up from his position behind the bar. His narrow features sharpened acquisitively as Xander made his way to the bar. Xander knew that Willie's wasn't the only speculative glance thrown in his direction.  
  
"Beer." Xander ordered.  
  
"Beer?"  
  
"Beer."  
  
"All right." Willie grinned and walked over to a cooler that housed God knew what. He fished out a bottle by the neck. He strolled back to Xander and used a rusted bottle opener to pop the cap off. He set the alcohol down and kept his hand on it. "Five bucks."  
  
Xander pulled out his wallet and fished out a twenty. He laid it on the bar. "Keep them coming."  
  
"Big spender."  
  
"Go away." Xander groused and snatched the beer up.  
  
Willie's rat-features spread into a grin, but he wandered back to his work at the other end of the bar. Xander hunched his shoulders and swigged the beer. He didn't come to the bar to prove anything. He came for some beer and then he'd head home.  
  
A figure settled onto the stool next to him. Xander glanced at it from the corner of his eye. The pair of black horns peeking through the crown of hair were the most noticeable feature. He swigged back another drink and noted the dark skin that looked like someone brushed gold sprinkles over it.  
  
"What are you?" Xander asked, curiosity overwhelming.  
  
"A messenger." The man replied before taking a drink of the boiling mug Willie slid down the bar to him.  
  
He couldn't resist. "What are you, Hell's Angel, you have a damnation, we deliver?"  
  
"Something like that." The figure shifted on the stool and stared at him. "You're Xander Harris, right?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Got a message for you."  
  
He snorted and polished off the beer bottle. "Yeah, what's that?"  
  
An envelope slid across the bar top. Xander stared down at the crimson and black paper. His name was etched in red on the front. "Who's this from?"  
  
The creature shrugged. "I don't read them. I just deliver."  
  
A cold beer replaced the empty and Xander studied the envelope briefly before slitting the paper open and looking inside.  
  
Willie wandered back down and eyed the empty stool with the full beer sitting in front of it. "Guess I'll keep the ten as a tip." He grinned at the horned gentleman who shrugged philosophically.  
  
"He won't need it." 


	22. The Long Summer 22

The Long Summer 22  
  
  
  
Xander let himself into the apartment with a whistle. He tossed the keys into the air and caught them in time to his tune. He juggled a pair of bags over one shoulder and carried them toward the bedroom with a half jaunt in his step.  
  
"Spike, why are you lurking in the kitchen?" He called as he pushed open the bedroom door.  
  
"I am not lurking." The vampire protested and as expected wandered as far as the bedroom door. "Where've you been? I came by last night but you never showed up."  
  
"Things to do. People to see." Xander replied as he hung a clean shirt on a hangar. "Why are you persisting in this farce of hanging out?"  
  
"I didn't see it as a farce. You needed a hand. I was trying to extend one." Spike sounded sincere. But that was his trap, wasn't it? He pretended to be the good guy? He looked after the best interests. Then when you start to trust the son of a bitch, he stabs you in the back.  
  
"Oh, is this like the hand you were dealing out with Adam?" Xander asked. He slid out a pair of slacks and smoothed them out neatly before hanging them in the closet.  
  
"That was a while ago, mate. I made up for that. I showed up to help."  
  
"Only when you realized you threw in with the losing side."  
  
"I always knew Adam was on the losing side. It wasn't about winning or losing."  
  
"Yeah?" Xander shrugged and took out a second pair of pants, smoothing them equally. "Could have fooled me."  
  
"I did fool you. What is all of that?" Spike was staring at the pair of leather loafers Xander extracted from a shoebox.  
  
"They call these shoes." Xander held them up. He couldn't help the unrepentant grin when Spike glared. "I went shopping."  
  
"I can see that."  
  
Xander grinned as he finished putting away his purchases. He thoroughly enjoyed perplexing the vampire. Nothing like having the upper hand. He brushed past him and made his way out into the front room.  
  
"So what's this soul business? Aspiring to be Angel Jr.?" Xander found a pot of coffee sitting fresh in the kitchen. He debated a beer and decided the coffee fit the bill. He poured himself a cup and carefully cleaned up any spills on the laminate counters. He glanced at Spike's frowning face framed by the doorway.  
  
"So? Going to tell me all about it or do I have to go pester Buffy?" The dart struck the mark quite neatly.  
  
"She doesn't know."  
  
"Well, now isn't that absolutely fascinating." Xander leaned against the counter, sipping the brew.  
  
"Look, I'll leave you to your business. You're obviously getting it all together."  
  
"Oh, please don't leave on my account. I was just beginning to enjoy our little tete a tetes." He smiled once more.  
  
"Be careful when you play with fire, mate." Spike did not smile. "It can burn."  
  
"You have more to worry about from fire than I do."  
  
Nothing more was said between the two as Spike retreated from the apartment. Xander swirled the coffee in his cup once and then moved to the kitchen table. He eyed the stack of unopened letters from England. He selected one at random and eyed the return address.  
  
It was definitely time for him to drop Willow a lifeline.  
  
Yes, definitely time. 


	23. The Long Summer 23

The Long Summer 23  
  
  
  
The new day dawned with a new crew joining the old at the worksite. They were making progress. Xander moved around his people, sometimes surveying and other times lending a helping hand. He kept spirits high with a casual comment here and there. Overall, he felt pleased by the headway they were making.  
  
"Hey, Harris?" The site chief found him on his lunch hour, sipping coffee and sitting on a bench across the street from the worksite.  
  
"Hey boss." Xander tipped the thermos toward him.  
  
"Doing a good job, kid. Inspector just sprang a surprise visit. Passed with flying colors."  
  
"We aim to please." Xander's thumb and forefinger formed a gun and he winked at the chief. "Should be moving up to framing the main building by next week. Basement won't take much longer."  
  
"Good. Good." His boss nodded, pleased. "I was a little worried about you there for a bit Harris. Thought you were going to the bottle too much. But you're all right kid."  
  
Xander pasted on another over bright grin. "Just doing my job, boss."  
  
"Well, keep at it." The older man clapped him on the shoulder. "If we finish this on time, I'm sure the mayor himself will thank you."  
  
"Peachy!"  
  
Xander rolled his eyes once the man's back was turned. He reached inside his denim jacket and pulled out a letter. The postage on the corner seemed overmuch, but then he needed to send it overseas. He twirled the letter in his hand idly contemplating it while sipping the coffee.  
  
"Xander?" The familiar British voice wasn't entirely unexpected.  
  
"Giles." Xander found a smile and squinted into the sun to see the familiar tweed-wearing gentleman wiping his glasses.  
  
As usual.  
  
"What brings you down here? Oh wait. It's a library. It probably calls to you, doesn't it?"  
  
"Hardly." Giles smirked. "Though that is partially why I'm here. Do you mind if I sit?"  
  
"Would you care if I did?" "Well," Giles hesitated. "No, not really. I think there are some things we need to say."  
  
"Well, lay it on me. I've got fifteen minutes until the whistle blows." He tossed back some more of the coffee and waited while Giles settled himself.  
  
"Xander, I know you're aware of what you are building on."  
  
"Yup. I went to school here. I got to be here when we blew it up. I have a lot of fond and absolutely horrifying moments. So I'm up with the location."  
  
"May I ask you why, you are participating then?"  
  
He shrugged. "Because I need to work for a living, Giles. Unlike you, the Watcher's Council doesn't pay my bills. Hell, they don't even bail out their slayer, just let her sling hash or rot in prison, take your pick. I live in the real world."  
  
"You also know what haunts the real world."  
  
"And my starving isn't going to make that any better."  
  
"Do you realize the risk you are putting thes-"  
  
"I'm not putting anyone at risk." Xander cut him off. "I'm doing my job. You don't like the location or the project; take it up with the town council. They voted to put this school back up. They are paying me to do it. That money puts clothes on my back pays my rent and puts food in my refrigerator. If you can offer me a better deal - - - "  
  
He stood and looked down at Giles. For the first time in his life, he didn't feel like the inferior. He knew the answer to his challenge. No one was going to pay him for being a roadblock toward the destruction of the planet. It was a feel good position only.  
  
"I didn't think so." He twirled the letter once more then stuck it out to Giles. "I wrote this. Think you can make sure it has enough postage to get to jolly old England?"  
  
"Of course." Giles stood, he seemed befuddled and when he took the letter Xander thought he was going to say something, but then he didn't.  
  
"See you around, G-man."  
  
"Xander - "  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Be careful."  
  
"Hey, it's me!" Xander pasted on a grin of bravado and gave Giles the thumbs up. He pretended to ignore the 'that's what worries me' that followed his statement and just headed back to the site.  
  
The faster they finished the better it would be.  
  
Yes, the faster they finished. 


	24. The Long Summer 24

The Long Summer 24   
  
An evening at the Bronze definitely filled the order after a long day on the worksite. Xander polished the cue tip idly and mentally lined up his shot. He steadied the cue against his hand and smiled slightly as a familiar figure appeared at the opposite end of the green topped table.  
  
Right on time.  
  
"Evening, Spike." He struck the white ball and sent it flying down to sink the number 7. "Beer?"  
  
"Sure, why not?" Spike nodded toward the table. "Feeling up to a challenge?"  
  
"From you?" Xander chuckled and peeled off a twenty to hand to a wandering waitress. She winked as he asked for a pair of beers.  
  
"If you're feeling up to it." Now there was the cocky Spike that Xander recalled.  
  
"Oh, I think I'm up to it. Go ahead, rack 'em up." He accepted the beers the waitress returned and watched as Spike stripped off his jacket. "You're really ditching the black and rustic look aren't you?"  
  
"Hmm." Spike spared him a half-glance while he set the balls up. "You're dressing up your wardrobe. Not to mention your tastes in beer." He nodded at the import Xander sipped.  
  
"Hey, what can I say? Man's gotta have some good perks in life." He watched Spike, the vampire still moved like a predator, but there did appear to be something different in his expression.  
  
Xander never really paid that much attention to it before, but if he thought about it long enough, he was sure he could put his finger on the pulse of it.  
  
"Do you want to break or shall I?" Spike asked. Now there was a loaded question. Xander contemplated the weight of his pool cue. Could he slam it down on the edge of the table, snap it in half and leap across, plunging the stake into the lying black-heart until all that was left was dust?  
  
He held himself poised over the imagery, savoring it. It seemed almost a disappointment to simply respond. "Go ahead."  
  
Spike nodded slowly. Xander wondered if the vampire had any inklings toward the direction that his thoughts ran these days. Of course, Spike never cared much about what anyone thought unless it involved getting in Buffy's pants.  
  
Sick thought.  
  
The first three games passed uneventfully, two in Spike's favor and one in Xander's. "Another?" Xander asked casually as he lifted the eight ball out of the corner pocket.  
  
"Sure." Spike peeled off a ten and purchased another two beers. Xander shook his head and stacked the balls together once more. "So what's new with you, Harris?"  
  
"Me? Nothing. You - now that's a different story, isn't it?"  
  
"How's that?"  
  
"Drusilla mentioned something the other night." Xander hid a grin as he shot the break and glanced over at Spike. "Aha, thought I wasn't paying attention, huh?"  
  
"She's a bit daft sometimes, mate. I wouldn't put too much credence into it." Spike circled the table for his shot and Xander watched him. Oh, pretty boy was nervous now.  
  
"I 'spose. You would know."  
  
"Yeah. I would." The pool cue cracked against the white ball and sent it flying sinking the number 2 into the pocket Xander stood near.  
  
"Good shot."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
He watched Spike maneuver for his next shot. The vampire's expression carried a note of wariness now. Xander found himself liking that part. For once, it was Spike who had something to worry about.  
  
Oh yes, he liked that indeed. 


	25. The Long Summer 25

The Long Summer 25  
  
He pulled the first box off the back of the truck and hefted it onto his shoulder. He carried it up to the backdoor of the shop and knocked twice. He heard the jangle of locks being undone and dredged up a smile as Anya appeared in the door opening.  
  
"Xander?" Her eyes flicked to the box on his shoulder. "What's that?"  
  
"Some stuff I found in the closet. I have a few more in the back of the truck. I thought you might want your things." It sounded lame, but it worked as well as any other excuse he could conjure up for coming by.  
  
"Oh." Anya pursed her lips before pulling the door wide. "I suppose you better bring it inside. It was - considerate of you, I suppose."  
  
"I thought since it's - well - " Xander fumbled for words as he carried the carton in and set it down.  
  
"That I wasn't coming back?" Anya supplied helpfully. She folded her arms. Her soft lavender overalls looked smudged in places. A decorated bandana tied her hair back from her face. Dirt stained the sleeves of her white t- shirt.  
  
She looked absolutely beautiful.  
  
"Yeah." Xander nodded once. "Anyway, I know that you like the things you- acquire. So, I thought I would bring them by."  
  
"Well, like I said, it was very considerate of you. How many did you bring?"  
  
"Six or seven boxes. Some clothes, most of it is other stuff from the apartment. Decorations - things like that." He rubbed a hand against the back of his neck. "Let me go get the rest. You want them back here?"  
  
"This will be fine. I'm trying to get the store stocked, so try to stack them on one side where they won't get mixed up with merchandise." A distracted air clung to her and Xander watched her walk through the connecting door into the shop proper.  
  
Shrugging his shoulders, he unloaded the other boxes. He was sure to stack them carefully so they wouldn't intrude in her merchandise space. Curiosity more than anything else drove him toward the shop. He peeked through the door to see the gleaming cherry wood shelves decorating the walls.  
  
The polished tile of the floor gleamed in newness. The bricks even seemed to have taken on a shine all their own. The wooden steps to his left were done in the same cherry, sanded and polished to look usable without the care of wearing down. The front window sported a brand new glass that refracted the sun lowering in the west through a dozen crystals hanging in it.  
  
There were books on some shelves, statuary on others. Incense perfumed the air, a combination of sandalwood and vanilla. Music played low and Xander glanced around to see a CD player sitting prominently on the shelf behind the re-worked counter. It took was shaped out of cherry.  
  
The stained glass front door threw a pattern of color over the darkened interior that somehow managed to be moody and cheerful at once. The melancholy destruction swept away to make room for a new beginning, fresh and newly formed.  
  
Resentment swelled up in his chest like a bitter pill. Movement caught the corner of his eye and he glanced up the stairs to see Anya and Giles consulting over some books they were stocking.  
  
More magic.  
  
Xander opened his mouth to say something when the oddest thing happened. Anya let out a soft giggle and pushed her hand against Giles' shoulder with an air of familiarity and intimacy.  
  
The words died unspoken as Giles' soft laughter mixed in with Anya's. They looked positively cozy. His lips compressed into a thin line and he withdrew back into the storeroom. He stared at the boxes he'd delivered and felt heat sweep through his face.  
  
His tried to concentrate on taking a deep breath, but he only seemed capable of short, shallow ones. His mind stuck in replay mode, he reviewed the scene he witnessed a dozen times in the scant seconds it took him to cross the store room and slam the back door as he let himself back out into the alley.  
  
Practically throwing himself in the car, he cursed his own idiocy before throwing the vehicle into gear and squealing out of the alleyway. He should have known.  
  
He should have.  
  
But he hadn't.  
  
Well, he consoled himself, he knew now. 


	26. The Long Summer 26

The Long Summer 26  
  
Xander swung the car down the long alley towards Willie's Bar and slid into a parking slot about half a block away. He didn't bother to lock the truck; he didn't care if anyone wanted to steal it. Anger ate away at his insides like a corrosive force.  
  
Bile, bitter and sour, rose in his throat only to be choked back down by his pride. He'd left her at the altar. She'd slept with Spike. There was little doubt in anyone's minds that it was over and done with.  
  
He needed to accept that and move on.  
  
Something moved in the shadows of the falling sunset, but the scowl he pasted onto his features sent it scurrying away. He yanked open the door to Willie's and descended the steps. He dodged through the hanging beads and strolled across the half-empty room toward the bar.  
  
Willie pulled out a beer as Xander dropped onto a stool. "Bad day?"  
  
"Just give me the beer and shut up." Xander pulled a pair of fives out of his wallet and laid them on the counter. He picked up a napkin and wiped the bottleneck before twisting the cap off.  
  
He drained it in two swallows and gave Willie a look as he pushed the empty back. "I'll take another."  
  
"You're the boss." Willie grinned. He drifted back to the cooler and fished out another. He slid it down the bar and wandered over to harass another customer. Xander wiped the second bottle with the same care as the first.  
  
Fingers danced across his shoulders and Xander cocked his head to see Drusilla smiling as she took up residence on the stool next to his. "You ran away." She accused with a pout.  
  
Xander shrugged, dredging up a lazy smile. "Things to do, people to see."  
  
"But we were having such fun until naughty Spike interrupted."  
  
"Yeah well, Spike seems to have a habit of being a thorn in the fun parts of my life." Xander tipped the bottle up to take a drink.  
  
"You're lonely."  
  
"I'm alone. There's a difference."  
  
Xander examined the smile she offered him. It was very sweet and almost innocent, but there was something moving behind her eyes that belied that. Well, she was a demon, good looks aside.  
  
But then wasn't Anya?  
  
"I think you're heart hurts. It goes all crickety crackety like someone's smashed it all to bits." She lifted her fingers to let them dance in the air in front of her. "My heart slipped once - all gooey and soft, then splat." Her hand smashed palm down against the bar top. "It got all squishy and icky."  
  
"And here I thought you liked all squishy and icky." Xander swirled the dark beer around in the bottle.  
  
"Well I do, but my heart bounces back. It'll heal. I'll just break a few necks, rip out a few entrails - " Drusilla sighed then.  
  
"What?"  
  
"He's all different now. My Spikey."  
  
"How's that?" Xander propped his chin on his hand, gazing at her doll like features.  
  
"I asked him once, if he likes all the parts of me on the inside, the ones he couldn't see. He said he loved all of me, all the way down to my entrails."  
  
"That's real romantic." Xander scoffed.  
  
Drusilla glared at him. "It was."  
  
"Well, he isn't around now, is he?"  
  
"No." She pouted. "He betrayed me for the Slayer. He let her take my Daddy away again. Then she took my Spikey."  
  
"What a bitch." Xander nodded. "Pretty ungrateful. She's supposed to kill demons you know."  
  
"I know." Drusilla nodded. "But you don't have to kill someone to slay them. She slew Spike a long time ago."  
  
Xander paused, beer bottle lifted to his lips. He turned his head to look at Drusilla more fully, her dark liquid eyes filled with simplicity itself.  
  
"Do vampires really know how to love?" He asked.  
  
"Spikey loved me. I know he did. I loved him, too. But that's all dust now. The Slayer made it dust. She drove a stake right through it."  
  
Xander reached over and ran his fingers down Drusilla's cheek. "It's hard to imagine anyone leaving you."  
  
"You did."  
  
"My mistake."  
  
"Are you sorry?" She leaned in closer. "Are you sorry you left the little princess?"  
  
Xander set the bottle down on the bar top. "Yeah, I think I am."  
  
Drusilla's smile grew wider, more playful. She growled softly and then nipped at his nose. "You're just mad at Spikey. You want to take me like he took yours."  
  
"Does that bother you?" Xander asked, stroking her cheek.  
  
She slid off the stool and pressed herself up against him. She seemed all soft and willowy, but she was hard and firm where her body leaned into him. "I want to hurt Spikey, too." She rubbed her cheek against his; Xander closed his eyes and let himself inhale the scent that wrapped around her.  
  
She was very intoxicating.  
  
"I guess the question is - your place or mine?"  
  
Her soft, throaty laughter was swallowed by his kiss and Xander sighed into that. It felt good to take.  
  
Damn good. 


	27. The Long Summer 27

The Long Summer 27  
  
Xander whistled to himself as he strolled up the steps toward his apartment. Friday's are the best day of the week. The site work was better than on schedule, it was ahead of schedule, finally. He was guaranteed a bonus and since they were ahead, he had the whole weekend to himself. A whole weekend to sit back and enjoy. The whistle halted when he saw the slight figure sitting in front of his door. He lifted both of his brows in surprise.  
  
"Little late for you to be running around, isn't it Dawn?" He crooked a grin as he shuffled his keys to the appropriate one.  
  
"Well, I figured if you wouldn't come for dinner, I'd bring dinner to you."  
  
"Uh huh." Xander slanted a look at her. "Dawn, don't you have any friends your own age?"  
  
She blinked hard at the comment. He knew it probably caught her off guard, but he wasn't much in the way of caring at the moment. "I just wanted to visit. You've been like real big with the scarce lately."  
  
"No, I've been real big with the not hanging out at Buffy's. Look - " Xander pushed the door open and leaned against the door jamb. "I'm not trying to be rude here, Dawnie. But Buffy was my friend, you are her kid sister. I like you well enough and all, but it's really not good you coming around and hanging out."  
  
Dawn blinked again. "Xander why are you being so mean?"  
  
"Actually, I thought I was being polite about telling you to butt out, get lost and find someone your own age. The words jail bait mean anything to you?" He toned the words for harsh, but cold slipped in without any provocation. The words scored as the hurt in her expression attested "That's hurtful."  
  
She sighed and dropped a brown paper bag onto the ground. "It's Chinese." She said, lower lip trembling. "One of your favorites. "  
  
He watched dispassionately as she darted down the stairs and then glanced at the bag of food. He should feel like a heel. He should feel like an ass.  
  
But what he really felt like - - -  
  
A soft chuckle interrupted the thought and he looked down the hallway to see Drusilla drifting towards him. Her dark hair spilled over her shoulders like a silken waterfall of blackness. The corners of his mouth lifted from their grimace. He shook a finger at her admonishingly.  
  
"Are you spying on me?"  
  
She laughed throatily. "No, I was just taking Miss Edith out for a walk and I saw the little sister coming to visit. We were curious so we watched. It was very entertaining."  
  
Xander shook his head and tapped Drusilla lightly on the nose. "Well go on and take her for her walk."  
  
"You're not going to come and play."  
  
"Not tonight, beautiful." He smiled and let himself indulge in another kiss. She was very pliant to the idea. "I've got some plans to make. We'll play another night."  
  
Her laughter tickled his lips as she peppered his jaw with kisses then playfully snapped at his nose. "Promise?"  
  
"Cross my heart." Xander drew an appropriate X over his chest. Her hand followed his motion and he felt her fingers press into the shirt where his heart beat beneath. "Hope to die." He whispered.  
  
"Tease." She laughed and kissed him again. It was intoxicating, these stolen little moments, she was all soft and desirable and every bit as deadly as ever. Then just like that, she danced down the hallway and left him to stare after her.  
  
He smiled and stepped over the brown bag into his apartment. He shoved the door closed with his shoulder and flipped through the mail. He saw the par avion stamp and felt his grin grow exponentially.  
  
Tearing open the envelope, he couldn't believe his luck.  
  
Willow was coming home.  
  
Yes!  
  
A knock at the door interrupted his euphoria and he shook his head in mild exasperation. "Dru," he chided as he pulled the door open. "I told you I can't come out and play -" The words paused as he saw who was standing in the doorway.  
  
"You know mate, you have a real problem." Spike said. 


	28. The Long Summer 28

The Long Summer 28  
  
"You know mate, you have a real problem." Spike said.  
  
"Is that so?" Xander shrugged. "Forgive me if I find that funny coming from you."  
  
The vampire stood silhouetted in the doorway. The corners of his mouth turned down and his brow seemed leaden with disapproval. Xander found the expression to be the height of amusement. A vampire, looking down his nose at him.  
  
"Look, you want to hate the world, hate it. Don't take it out on Dawn and don't bloody well take up with Drusilla."  
  
"Jealous?" Xander shrugged off his jacket and tossed it over the back of a chair. "I mean, she did dump you, didn't she?"  
  
"She's a dangerous woman, Xander." Spike's voice was full of careful warning and restraint. Xander studied him with deepening interest. Ever since his return, Spike behaved out of character as though he were atoning or making up. Hell, maybe he discovered religion.  
  
"So I've heard. But then you're a psychopathic butcher and you want to clean my house." Xander's teeth gritted in the grin. "So tell me, which is the lesser of two evils?"  
  
Spike shook his head. "What game are you playing?"  
  
"No I think the question is what game are you playing Spike? You attack Buffy, she kicks your ass. The usual. Only this time, you pull the great runaway act and vanish. Now you're back, only you want to be my best friend and act like I should give a rat's ass about your opinion. So - what is your game?"  
  
"I'm not playing a game."  
  
"No, you just went for the blue-light special and picked up a soul."  
  
He waited. The pointed words struck the desired target. Spike's expression tightened further and there was something that on any other face, Xander might have called pained regret.  
  
On Spike, he thought of it more as a Golden Globe or maybe just MTV.  
  
"What's a matter, Spike?" Xander pushed at him. "Cat got your tongue."  
  
Spike moved in the blink of an eye, his hands closed on Xander's shirtfront and he hauled him forward and up. "Stop it, Xander."  
  
"Stop what?" He felt pleased. Very pleased. This reaction was every bit the one he'd hoped for.  
  
"Stop baiting me. Stop trying to get me to attack you. Stop treating me like some kind of freak."  
  
"You are a freak." Xander stated easily. "A freak of nature. An abomination. You are the demon that killed the person that used to occupy that body. If you did pick up a blue-light special soul, then you know that. I'm surprised you haven't walked out into the sun."  
  
Spike thrust him away and Xander tumbled back onto the floor. He caught himself and smirked at Spike's pained expression.  
  
"You're a violent, blood-sucking murderer. You killed people for the fun of it. It wasn't about food or happy meals with legs. It was about being a man and an all-powerful one. Hell, you couldn't even live up to your Yoda."  
  
For one brief moment, Xander thought it worked, Spike's jaw flexed and his face-hardened. He didn't lunge, however, he just took a step backward. Then another and another.  
  
"Truth hurt, Spike?" Xander pushed again.  
  
"You're playing with fire, Harris. Don't hurt Dawn again."  
  
"Or what?"  
  
The vampire paused in the doorway and stared at Xander. Their eyes locked and the antipathy Xander felt, surged forward. He waited, but the vampire only shook his head and walked away.  
  
Damn. 


	29. The Long Summer 29

The Long Summer 29  
  
"Look, how many times do I have to tell you that I'm fine?" Xander demanded, not bothering to disguise his irritation as Buffy once more inserted herself into his path.  
  
"Until I believe you." She declared. Her eyes seemed a little over bright and her color flushed. He didn't have to look too closely to see that she was well on her way to a deep golden tan for the summer.  
  
He stopped dodging her and faced her squarely. Work was piling up and he needed to finish his reqs and workbook for the day so when quitting time came, he could get out of there. "Look, Buffy. Thanks for the concern." He held up his hand. "Seriously. But I'm fine. A little overworked and a lot underpaid, but I'm fine."  
  
"Really?" She sounded intensely skeptical. "Why do I not believe you?"  
  
"Defect?" Xander shrugged. "I don't know. I just - want my space."  
  
"Xander - we're your friends. We care about you. You've been staying so distant lately and I know Dawn came to see you last night."  
  
He waited for it. She didn't chew him out or punch him. It was a safe bet Dawn didn't confess the entirety of the conversation. That was decent of her. Xander shoved his hands into his pockets.  
  
"What do you want me to say, Buff?"  
  
Her brow wrinkled into a deep frown. "I want you to tell me what's wrong."  
  
"Okay. You're what's wrong."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"You're badgering me, following me around, giving me orders and telling me what to do. That's what's wrong."  
  
"It's called friendship, Xander. Remember? We need to talk to each other. Don't let each other drift apart until we don't recognize each other anymore."  
  
"You look in a mirror lately?" Xander lifted his brows; he couldn't believe the line she spouted off.  
  
"Am I supposed to understand that?"  
  
"You've been Miss Enigma since the great return. Now, while I don't pretend that you weren't pissed at us for wanting our friend back, we did pull you out of heaven which made most of rank real low on the totem pole. You needed your space, you needed - Spike." His mouth twisted bitterly. 'The last thing you needed was the rest of us. You getting what I'm saying here?"  
  
"But Xander - I did need you." Her over bright eyes sharpened. He watched her work her teeth into her upper lip. She didn't know what to say.  
  
Well that made two of them.  
  
"You had a real funny way of showing it."  
  
"Hey." Buffy looked offended. "I tried to tell you guys, but you were too happy about having me back and we did this already - we worked this out - didn't we?"  
  
"Did we?" Xander shrugged. "I thought it was more a Buffy pity party and how I'm an idiot and a moron because I actually disapprove of you getting down and nasty with a vampire - oh wait - I sang this song before and we had to deal with Angelus. Silly me."  
  
The shot struck the mark hard and fast. He saw the way her expression closed in and her eyes shuttered.  
  
"I want to be left alone, Buffy. I want my space. I want to figure my own head without two cents thrown in by you."  
  
"Xander - "  
  
"What?" His impatience got the better of him; he felt his hands curl into fists. If she were a guy, he'd deck her at the moment. He could feel the anger seething upwards. She just wouldn't shut up and go away. She never knew when to leave it alone, except when it came to her.  
  
Oh, then she knew how to keep her mouth shut.  
  
"I'm sorry." She seemed so helpless, but what a crock. She was a least helpless person he knew. She didn't need him. She didn't want him around unless it was convenient for her.  
  
He averted his gaze from her face and studied the work site. "We're all sorry, Buffy. It doesn't change squat."  
  
"No," her voice was whisper soft. "I guess it doesn't."  
  
He didn't bother to reply. He kept his eyes affixed to the bobcat that was hauling away some debris from the construction. He could almost feel her fidgeting, but he refused to look at her. He sensed more than saw her hand rise twice, only to fall away without touching him.  
  
"I guess - I'll go."  
  
"That would be appreciated." He responded quietly.  
  
"Okay - see you later."  
  
"Yep. See you." His gazed didn't waver from the construction. After an eternity, she finally turned and he heard her walk away. His jaw clenched as the muscles in it tightened.  
  
With excruciating slowness, he uncurled his fists and glanced down at the bloody indentions he'd left with his fingernails. 


	30. The Long Summer 30

The Long Summer 30  
  
Xander shifted beneath the sheet and flopped back against the pillows. A silken hand ran over his chest and he glanced lazily up at Dru. She sat up in the middle of the bed, swaying back and forth. Her head tilted back letting her gaze move over the ceiling, enjoying some vision only she was privy too.  
  
He studied the line of her jaw, the way it subtly curved into her neck. His hand trailed over the sheet to her bare leg. He stroked the skin and it amazed him at how curiously warm it felt.  
  
"You're melancholy." Drusilla turned her gaze down. He could feel her hungry eyes wandering over his face, but the drifting laziness he felt didn't dissipate. "Your thoughts tread down the dark paths, you dance in shadows."  
  
"Why Spike?" Xander's hand continued to stroke her thigh; it was an idle gesture, borne of half felt thoughts and feelings.  
  
"Hmm?" Dru's head sidled in serpentine manner as she bent down to look at him.  
  
"Why Spike?" He slid an arm under his head, propping himself up so he could watch her face. He liked the way emotion played over it.  
  
"My Spike was - effulgent. Full of dreams and pain and shadows; he ached with it." She rolled her head around, hair flowing as though with a life of its own. "I wanted to take away his pain, to consume it and to dance within the flames of it. He made such beautiful flames, my Spike."  
  
"I don't see it." Xander mused. "I don't see him - feeling."  
  
Her nails dug into his chest and he hissed at the gouge. Her dark eyes flashed at him as she leaned in closer. "We feel pain. We feel hate. We feel anger. We feel love, too."  
  
"But you don't feel mercy." He licked his lips thoughtfully.  
  
"Why bother with mercy? It serves no purpose to our survival. Besides - fear is fun." Drusilla laughed softly. "The screaming and crying is like music. My Spike could make someone hurt for hours until they were so hoarse, they couldn't cry anymore."  
  
He sighed. He felt Drusilla's weight shift until she laid along side him. Her chin rested in her hand and her distant gaze more casually focused on the present. "You don't like my answer."  
  
"No. I don't." Bitterness filled him, choking back the lazy respite he'd purchased in their frolicking. "He's a killer and a butcher. Yet, he clips someone's hangnail and they can forgive the rest."  
  
"You're jealous."  
  
"I am not." Xander's jaw clenched and he gritted his teeth. "I just don't see what they see in him."  
  
Drusilla laughed. "They see hope."  
  
"What?" He glared at her laughter.  
  
"Humans need hope. I did. When Angelus tortured my family, I looked everywhere for respite and found only God." Her smile took on that manic quality and her gaze wandered off to that far away place once more. "But God couldn't save me. I promised Him everything and Daddy came."  
  
Xander rolled his eyes and shifted so that he could lie on his side. He felt her cuddle up to his back. She liked the illusion of human comfort and he allowed her that. It was worth indulging her whims.  
  
It seemed ridiculous to imagine that Spike represented hope. How the hell could he represent hope? It was inconceivable. He found himself remembering the bluff and the bleakness in Willow's expression. The volatile hate that swelled out to encompass everything.  
  
He felt the blast tear through his chest.  
  
The hot, searing pain as it rent into him and flung him away like a rag doll. The process repeated twice more, he wouldn't - no he couldn't let her do it. Yet, he couldn't stop her either. The power consumed all reason; all thought and left nothing but devastated emotion in its wake.  
  
"I love you." He told her. "If I'm going to die - if the world is going to end. Then I'm going to do it right here - with you - with my best friend."  
  
His stared into the darkness of the room and felt Drusilla. She stirred behind him, but where her fingers traveled, he felt nothing.  
  
Nothing.  
  
The nothingness within him seemed to be expanding.  
  
"You have a scar," Drusilla whispered against his ear. Her fingers were tracing the burned pattern along his back. "A lovely huge scar - it dances on your skin - it dances in your flesh."  
  
"Shut up, Dru." He whispered.  
  
"It dances in your soul - "  
  
He rolled over, his hand seizing her throat, cutting off her words. He leaned his face into hers, nose to nose. "Shut up, Dru." And he sealed her mouth with his and vented that bitterness into her willing form.  
  
When they were spent once more and she fell silent in the repose of sleep, he slid from the bed and staggered into the bathroom. His chest felt hot and he touched the light switch with a weary hand.  
  
"You have summoned the witch?" A voice asked and Xander looked up to see the burning face reflecting in the mirror.  
  
"Yes." He whispered.  
  
"Good. Dally as you will - but remember our purpose." The reflection informed him. He watched the burning features settle into his own and the fire that burned within gradually lessened until the cold numbness was restored.  
  
He'd summoned the witch. The pain and the weariness vanished together.  
  
He looked down at the sink, then back toward his reflection in the glass. No more pain. No more suffering. The mark on his chest seemed to have grown. He traced the black inkiness with a finger.  
  
Yes, all gone now. 


	31. The Long Summer 31

The Long Summer 31  
  
Xander fidgeted with the tie. It seemed to be strangling him. He glanced down at his suit and flicked off some imaginary dust. He declined to sit in one of the plush chairs the secretary offered for him to wait in. The suit wasn't particularly expensive, but expensive enough.  
  
It didn't seem prudent to wrinkle it before the eleven o'clock. He caught himself fidgeting with his tie again. He glanced at the mirror in the corner and straightened the tie properly. He smoothed it down and examined his overall image. It would do.  
  
"Mr. Harris?" The secretary opened the door to the mayor's office. "The Mayor will see you now."  
  
Xander gave the woman an obligatory nod. With one last twist at his tie, he stepped past her into the inner sanctum.  
  
"May I get you some coffee?"  
  
"Yes, please. Thank you. Three sugars, a little cream."  
  
"I'll be right back with that."  
  
Xander's eyes lingered along the curves framed by her linen skirt. He shook his mind off such thoughts and turned his attention toward the large desk that sat in the middle of the office and the man sitting behind it.  
  
"Well, well, Mr. Harris. Mr. Harris." The man took to his feet and circled the desk. He offered Xander a hand and pumped it in a friendly manner as they shook hands. "Robert Wilson, it's a pleasure to finally meet you."  
  
"Mr. Wilson." Xander's bemused expression rested on the somewhat thinning hair that decorated the blonde man's pate. He was a man of average height and looks, though his smile seemed to be a permanent fixture. "It's an honor to meet you as well."  
  
Wilson laughed and clapped Xander's shoulder. He looked past the younger man briefly as the pretty little secretary in her dark linen skirt returned. "Here's your coffee Mr. Harris and I brought you a fresh cup as well, Mr. Wilson."  
  
"You're one in a million, Betty." Wilson's charm focused on the younger woman and Xander's interest rose briefly as she seemed to glow under the praise. "Hold all my calls for a bit, would you?"  
  
"Of course, Mr. Wilson. If you need anything, just buzz."  
  
"You bet!" They both watched her retreat from the office, closing the door behind her. Wilson nodded to himself then gestured to the large, plush pair of chairs that faced Wilson's oversized desk. "Have a seat, Mr. Harris. We've some business to discuss and it's always best to discuss business when you're comfortable."  
  
He took his own advice and settled himself back in the leather-upholstered chair that sat behind the desk. Xander waited a brief moment before sitting down. First impressions were made; wrinkling the pants now shouldn't have any long last impairment. He took possession of his coffee cup and sampled the flavor.  
  
Quite good, actually.  
  
Xander gazed across the desk at Wilson who seemed quite comfortable in his position of power.  
  
"I suppose you are wondering why I asked for this meeting?" Wilson began casually.  
  
"No." Xander shook his head. "Not really."  
  
"Good. I hate having to explain these things, it's always so messy and metaphysical." Wilson laughed. "Most people in these parts just can't handle the explanation."  
  
"I grew up here." Xander countered. "I'm pretty familiar with the way things work."  
  
"That's right." Wilson's gaze turned speculative. "You did. In fact, it was during your graduation ceremony that the high school was blown up."  
  
"Yes, sir." Xander nodded agreeably. "An unfortunate side-effect of the ascension." Xander shrugged. "We just graduated, no one really felt like being eaten."  
  
Wilson actually laughed at that. "Mayor Wilkins was a bit of a pompous windbag. Still, the man possessed a certain style and panache."  
  
"If you say so."  
  
"Well, I do. You're very gracious to allow me that. So tell me, Mr. Harris. How are things progressing on the new school?"  
  
"We're moving ahead of schedule. We were a bit behind at first, but my crews have stabilized the situation and we're moving apace. The library framing is complete; we're finishing up the exterior brickwork. Electricians and plumbing are done for now. We should be able to move inside within the next two weeks."  
  
"Excellent!" Wilson leaned forward and slapped his desk for emphasis. "I really wasn't sure about their choice in you, Mr. Harris, I have to confess. You are bearing up to the job admirably, however. Our masters will be very pleased."  
  
Xander merely nodded and took another sip of the coffee. "Things may get complicated in the next couple of weeks."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"A friend of mine is coming home, I'll get the exterior work completed, but I'll need her help on the interior. That may require a bit of persuasion."  
  
"Ahh - Ms. Rosenberg." Mr. Wilson's smile expanded if that were possible. "Yes, I can definitely see where her aid would be invaluable. Tell me, Mr. Harris, have you ever considered a position in politics?"  
  
"Not particularly, no. Politicians are liars, cheats and charmers."  
  
"You should consider it. I know we have an unsavory reputation, but this town needs good solid folk in its leadership. They are sheep after all and every flock needs a good shepherd."  
  
Xander regarded the mayor with an air of skepticism. "I don't think I'd do overly well in the political arenas. I'm not real good with people."  
  
"Maybe not in the past. But you've definitely got a new air about you these days. Think about it, if you're interested, I can always find a place for you on my staff after the school is finished. We could really go places, you and I."  
  
Xander's skepticism didn't sway under the onslaught of the Mayor's charm. He merely nodded his head once and took a sip of the coffee. The Mayor leaned back once more in his chair. He seemed to be taking stock of Xander; much the same way Xander was assessing him.  
  
In the end, Xander decided the Mayor would do his job. He would continue to provide all the support Xander required to finish the needed job. And Xander needed to finish building the school. It was like a fire on the brain, he really needed to finish rebuilding it.  
  
"Would you care for some lunch, Mr. Harris? I could introduce you to a few people."  
  
"That won't be necessary." Xander deferred. "I should get back to the worksite. I'll leave the entertaining up to you. I'm sure it's what you do best." He watched to see if the double meaning in his words rolled across to strike the mark.  
  
He was satisfied by the Mayor's shuttered expression that he'd indeed touched a nerve. He took one last drink of the coffee and set the mug back on the Mayor's desk. He rose and Wilson followed suit.  
  
They shook hands briefly and Xander turned on his heel to stride out.  
  
"Mr. Harris?" Wilson called as Xander's hand reached the door. Xander didn't look back; he merely stood there, waiting.  
  
"Watch your back, Mr. Harris." Wilson's tone was absolutely pleasant. "You're a fine asset, right now."  
  
Xander smirked faintly, then turned the knob to let himself out. He exchanged a few pleasantries with the secretary before leaving the Mayor's offices and heading down the steps to the front of City Hall.  
  
"Xander!" A familiar voice summoned his attention from the lists he was making in the back of his mind. He scanned the thinning crowd and frowned slightly as he caught sight of Anya hurrying toward him.  
  
"Good morning, Anya." He nodded to her.  
  
"Hi. Giles and I are here to renew our business license, but I saw you and I haven't spoken to you since that night at the shop. Giles told me about your efforts to rebuild and I wanted to say thank you. You should have mentioned it so I could have thanked you earlier, but thank you." The words came out in a rush and Xander found himself reminded of why he enjoyed talking to her sometimes.  
  
"It wasn't important." Xander shrugged.  
  
"But it is. It was an act of caring and remorse. We've been having trouble since you abandoned me at the altar and I've forgiven you for that, now, truly."  
  
"All right." Xander hoped he sounded reasonable. "I'm glad the shop is going to reopen and things are going well."  
  
"Extremely well, except for the parts where everyone is very worried about you. Buffy and Giles have been speaking about you on regular basis." Anya's eyes narrowed. "You are keeping things from the rest of us aren't you?"  
  
"Anya, I'm busy. I'm figuring things out. Let's leave it at that."  
  
"You're trying to distract me because I'm on target, right?"  
  
"No," Xander replied patiently. "I'm trying to tell you to mind your own business."  
  
Anya blinked at him as Xander offered her another faint smile. She frowned and then looked away. Xander suspected she was looking for Giles; he took her momentary distraction to slip away. He didn't want Anya looking to closely at him.  
  
She tended to call a spade, a spade.  
  
They could avoid that for a bit longer yet. 


	32. The Long Summer 32

The Long Summer 32  
  
Man cannot remake himself without suffering, for he is both the marble and the sculptor.  
  
- Alexis Carrel  
  
"So, how was it?" Xander asked congenially as he hoisted the suitcase in the door and held it open for her.  
  
"It was - lonely." Willow proffered a small, shy smile as she stepped into the room. Her shoulders hunched up in a small shrug. Her hands were hidden in the pockets of her khaki pants. "Painful - I didn't like it."  
  
Xander closed the door behind her and reached an arm out to hug her from behind. "I'm sorry Will. I wish they hadn't dragged you eight thousand miles away." He felt her tense at the first touch of his hand on her shoulder, but gradually she relaxed.  
  
"It's okay. I needed to do it on my own. Self-reliance and all that." She laid her cheek against his arm and rubbed it a little. He considered letting her go, but tightened the hug instead, wrapping his free arm around her as well.  
  
"You're home now."  
  
"Yeah." Willow's voice quavered briefly. "It feels strange. I thought that - I thought that Buffy would -"  
  
Xander turned her around and tipped his head to the side. "What Will?" He touched a finger to her chin when she wouldn't meet his eyes. He nudged her face up and saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes.  
  
"I thought they'd meet me at the airport. Or - maybe be here - you know - kinda like a surprise. Or something. Maybe."  
  
"Look, Will." Xander sighed and pulled her close, hugging her. "Buffy and Dawn - they're pretty tied up at the moment with that whole sister bonding thing. I'm sure Buffy meant to come see you, but might be a good idea to give her some time."  
  
"She's still mad at me, isn't she?" Willow pulled away from him and looked at him directly. "Tell me the truth."  
  
"I don't know. I haven't seen much of her this summer. Like I said - she's been busy." Xander shrugged it off and then brushed his knuckles lightly against her cheek. "I don't' know what kind of food they serve in the Jolly Old Mother Country, but you feeling up for a little pizza?" "Pizza is of the good." She admitted with a small smile. "Pepperoni?"  
  
"And sausage and mushrooms and pineapple and extra cheese."  
  
"Definitely extra cheese." Willow's small smile grew and she turned around to glance at Xander's apartment. "You redecorated."  
  
"Eh - just a few things. Had to make some changes after Anya left. She took most of her furniture." Xander's grin twisted with a hint of self-mockery as he wandered over to the phone. His eyes trailed Willow's progress as she explored. She moved like a cat introduced into a new home. Her steps were tentative and she seemed to be testing each part of the room as she moved around it.  
  
He waited until the guy taking his order promised him thirty minutes or less before hanging it up. "Want something to drink Will?"  
  
"Water is good."  
  
"I have bottled water."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yes, because all the cool kids have bottled water."  
  
She laughed at that. A faint laugh, but real nonetheless. Xander grinned at the sound and slipped into the kitchen. He snagged a beer for himself and chilled Evian for Willow. He bumped into her as he came back out and they both laughed.  
  
"Does this feel weird to you?" Willow asked him as she took the bottle of water.  
  
"No, it feels good." He smiled. "Real good. I missed you."  
  
"I missed you, too. I was really screwed up when I got over there. I barely even remember the trip." She ran fingers through her hair self-consciously and resumed her pacing. Xander followed at a lazier pace and settled himself into a chair so he could watch her.  
  
"I don't think I even realized that Giles took me to England at first, but the Coven - they were really nice. They spent a lot of time just making me relax, meditate - ground and center. When the dreams started - that's when I started realizing some things."  
  
"What things?" Xander asked quietly.  
  
"Things like - I beat the crap out of Buffy. I terrorized Dawn. I killed Rack. I -"Her eyes took on a distant quality. Whatever she saw, it wasn't in this room. "I murdered Warren."  
  
"He deserved that." Xander interjected.  
  
"Nobody deserved that." Willow shook her head. "I was so angry. So hurt. I couldn't believe life could be so unfair. I just got her back. I could bring back my best friend, but not my lover." She sniffled and took a long drink of the water. She seemed to be wrestling with something and the tears glittered in her eyes once more. "I had all this power and I couldn't do the one thing I so desperately wanted to do."  
  
"So killing her murderer, saving Buffy and ending the world - that was a plan." It sounded weak, but Xander's faint smile managed to earn another watery chuckle from Willow.  
  
"Well - I think the ending the world was a bit over the top."  
  
"Only a little."  
  
They both grinned, but they dimmed equally.  
  
"I'm really sorry for what I did to you, Xander."  
  
"Nah!" Xander waved a hand brushing aside the concern. "You weren't yourself."  
  
"No - I mean, when you came to stop me.I poured all that power through you like that. I couldn't hurt you - but Donna explained to me about the kind of damage I could have done."  
  
"Damage?" He blinked with a modicum of surprise. "Will, I wasn't hurt."  
  
"Not the outside, on the inside. I poured all that power through your heart chakra - that's a powerful chakra - I could have destroyed your soul."  
  
"Hey," Xander held up a hand and waved it at her. "Soul still here, all intact. No worries."  
  
Willow sighed and ducked her head a little. Her words drifted off as the doorbell rang. Xander winked at her as he rose to answer it. He threw it open and grinned broadly at the dark haired angel holding a pizza boy in one hand and a pizza in the other.  
  
"You ordered a pizza?" Drusilla purred. 


	33. The Long Summer 33

The Long Summer 33  
  
  
  
"XANDER!" Willow squealed from behind him, her voice notching up an octave or two.  
  
He glanced over his shoulder, pushing the door open casually to let Drusilla in. "Willow," he chided. "Calm down."  
  
"But that's Drusilla - you can't just let her in here." Willow backed up a couple of paces and promptly smacked her shin against the coffee table. "Ow!"  
  
"Shhh." Drusilla put a finger to her lips. She'd left the pizza boy outside, but brought the box inside. Xander pushed the door closed. One shock seemed enough for tonight as far as Willow was concerned.  
  
Her eyes were large and round like saucers. "Willow, Willow." Xander chanted her name softly and motioned for Drusilla to stay put. He put on his best smile and held his hands out to his best friend. "It really is all right."  
  
"All right?" Willow squeaked. "But that's - that's Drusilla!"  
  
"So?"  
  
"She's a vampire." Willow hissed. "Remember?"  
  
Xander's grin softened. "Of course, I remember. But it's okay, Will. She's changed."  
  
"What?" Both women favored him with equally skeptical looks.  
  
"She's changed. Haven't you Dru?" He glanced over at the brunette and lifted both of his brows.  
  
"Princess is better now. Xander helps Princess." Drusilla's girlish smile brightened at Xander's approving look.  
  
"See?" Xander gestured and moved in closer to Willow. "It really is okay."  
  
"How can you say that?" Willow's voice dropped as Xander neared her, she glanced furtively between him and Drusilla. He could almost see her trying to figure out what to do. Best to keep her away from the phone for a few minutes. "She's a vampire. They don't change, remember? Evil. Soulless. Demons?"  
  
Xander shrugged. "Spike's a vampire, you trusted him." Willow blinked.  
  
"So was Angel. Everyone made with the love when he came back all soul shiny and happy."  
  
"That was -"  
  
"Different?" Xander challenged her. "No, not really. They were just guys and you and Buff made with the hormones. If they can change, why can't Drusilla?"  
  
"Because Drusilla's insane." Willow whispered. "And Angelus wasn't good - Angel was."  
  
"Angelus - Angel - no difference. Big fat shiny happy soul doesn't make him a good guy and a chip sure as hell don't make Spike a good guy."  
  
"But they can't -"  
  
Xander waited for it, but Willow went silent. He gave her full marks for not being able to sustain that fiction that a chip and soul made Angel and Spike a pair of neutered, toothless puppies.  
  
He felt Drusilla move up behind him, pressing her weight against his back as she stood up on her tiptoes to lean her head against his shoulder. "I would never hurt Xander," Drusilla added her assurances to his. Unfortunately, they didn't sound really promising.  
  
"You and -" Willow's voice trailed off as she took in their intimate posture and she leapt back a foot. "Ewwww--- talk about 1-900-I'm-Dating-A- Skanky-Ho!"  
  
"Willow!" Xander chided and then found himself intercepting Drusilla as she leapt forward, hands extended like claws. "Ladies!" He snapped, pulling Dru back with a preternatural strength. He glared at her and her game face vanished as quickly as it appeared. "We're going to sit down and discuss this civilly." He turned that cool, cold eye on Willow. "And as for you, Miss Black Magic Woman, I suggest you watch your tone. You're not so squeaky clean yourself."  
  
Willow blinked at him and he saw the expression that shivered across her face and allowed himself a moment's pleasure.  
  
She was afraid.  
  
Good. 


	34. The Long Summer 34

The Long Summer 34  
  
  
  
"Are you sure you don't want any pizza?" Xander asked, holding up a cheese- laden slice. He waved it temptingly at Willow, but she merely glared at him once and then looked away, studiously avoiding his gaze. He sighed and set the piece down. He took up a napkin and wiped his fingers fastidiously. "Willow, I'd untie you, but you made a bolt for the door three times. I'm just not feeling the open communication here."  
  
"I don't know what's wrong with you, but this isn't the Xander I know." The defiance in her voice had dropped to a tepid temperature. The fear ate at her and despite his earlier enjoyment, he felt a few misgivings; a lack of patience for one.  
  
"There's nothing wrong with me, Will. I'm me. Good ol' Xander Harris. We've known each other since we were in diapers practically."  
  
"The Xander I know would not be - " She tried to gesture, futilely, with her bound hands. "Whatever it is your doing. Is this why you asked me to come back? So you could hand me over to Miss Skank here?"  
  
Drusilla hissed and made a playful clawing gesture with her fingers. "Can I have a eye?"  
  
"No." Xander replied absently. "She's going to need them." He smacked Drusilla's hand lightly when it didn't retreat from its playful swooping and clawing motions. "I said no, Drusilla."  
  
Dru pouted and flopped back in the chair. "I'm bored."  
  
"That's not my problem. We're supposed to be having a chat. We need to convince Willow we're all on the same side."  
  
"I don't want to be on her side." Dru leaned over the table toward Xander, her pouting lips hovering perilously close to his. "I like your side."  
  
Xander chuckled, not minding the proximity at all. "I know. But Willow is going to be on my side, which means we're all on the same side."  
  
"I don't want to share." Her pout became a glare and a sulk. "She's selfish. She'll want you all to herself and try to hurt Princess."  
  
He rolled his eyes and looked back at Willow. "She's temperamental, but she has her good points."  
  
"Name one."  
  
"Great legs."  
  
"Oh puh-leeze."  
  
"C'mon Will, check out the packaging here. You like the girl thing."  
  
Willow's gaze went flinty and her mouth set in a hard line. "Let me go, Xander."  
  
"No. I'm afraid not."  
  
"Why are you doing this?"  
  
"Why does anyone do anything? Because they have to or because they want to."  
  
"Which is it for you?"  
  
Drusilla started laughing. She stood up and danced in a little circle around the table. Her body swayed from side to side. "The night is darkness, eyes in the light, children play - " She paused in front of Willow and leaned down close, nose to nose. "Children play games and they make fun. Cruel, bad, awful children - they're so mean and they know every little place - Miss Edith knows, but she won't tell." Drusilla laughed again, delighted and returned to her waltz.  
  
Xander watched her bemusedly. He wondered if he could up the entertainment factor of the evening by bludgeoning her to death. Her vague little epiphanies exploded at the oddest times. Still, she was very useful and very talented. He smiled to himself as he watched her dance lightly into the living room and twirl around the chairs.  
  
"I need you to do a spell for me." Xander announced, his gaze drifting back to Willow.  
  
"I can't do magic."  
  
"Ehhh-survey says wrong answer. Sorry Jean Gray, I've seen you in action and you are bad with your Darth Vader self."  
  
"No," Willow strained against the bonds wrapping her tightly to the chair. "I didn't say I wouldn't, I said I can't. They put a geas on me."  
  
"A what?"  
  
"A geas. It's a spell, it prevents me from doing magic."  
  
Xander eyed her skeptically and Willow let out a little explosive breath of frustration mingled with fear.  
  
"I have to learn self-control, but even with what I HAVE learned, they don't trust me yet. They put a geas on me that won't let me do magic. I can't perform spells; I wouldn't even be able to say the words. I have to learn to be a better me and to love the me that is me without the magic and to not depend on it for everything. I have choices. Buffy's stuck being Buffy, but I don't have to be Willow the Witch - I could be - I don't know - Willow the Ice Cream truck driver."  
  
His skepticism rose to mockery. "Oh please. 'The me without the magic.'" His voice raised an octave. "What a load of bull, Willow. The you without the magic was some boring little mouse who wore fuzzy sweaters and would probably be at MIT learning how to be a billionaire CEO of some online conglomerate and the only dates you would ever see would be in a chat room."  
  
She flinched at his verbal slap and gradually the heat returned to her eyes. "Yeah well, at least I'd have a future and not work as some jack of all trades, migrant day worker who has to drag the bottom for a date."  
  
"Touché'." Xander chuckled. "But the difference is, I don't care about that. You do."  
  
"You do so care."  
  
"No, I do not."  
  
"You do too! You hated it when Buffy and I went to college and 'left' you behind. You define yourself by being Buffy's friend and that's why you hate all the stuff that she does that doesn't get your approval." Willow's voice broke and she blinked back tears. "Xander, I don't want to fight with you."  
  
"Then don't. All you have to do is help me. I just want you to do a little magic for me and that's it - a little bitty spell. One that's for someone else and not just your own selfish need to be validated." He glanced at his watch and sighed. "I have to go - meetings and stuff. Drusilla will keep you company. Why don't you think about it while I'm gone?"  
  
"You have to go?" Willow and Drusilla sounded almost identical in their plaintive tone. Xander nearly burst out laughing.  
  
"Yes, I have to go." He paused and kissed the top of Willow's head. "Think about it, Willow. One little spell - try it, you might like it." He turned and delivered a far more thorough kiss to Drusilla. He heard Willow's gagging noise and ignored it as he pulled Drusilla close, firmly and painfully. "Be a good Princess and I'll bring you a present."  
  
The dark-haired waif smiled mischievously. "Can I have a little nibble?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
"Just a little one?"  
  
Xander nipped her nose. "No. None. Zip. Zero. If you're bad - I'll be really nice to you." He couldn't promise her punishment, she'd eviscerate Willow just to see how hard he'd give it to her. But she hated it when he was nice, because then he wasn't mean. His words drew the desired and predictable reaction.  
  
She sulked.  
  
He grabbed his jacket as he went to the door, he saw the pizza boy lying in a slump in the corner and stuck his head back inside. "Dru, darling - come clean up your mess, hmm? The super might frown about the smell."  
  
He didn't bother to wait for her response, just shut the door and left them alone. He was pretty sure that by the time he got back. Willow would be ready to do anything he asked and Drusilla would be frantic with anticipation for a little abuse.  
  
Not a bad thing to tease himself with as he went about the business of taking care of business. 


End file.
